


Bonfires and new beginnings

by Tharin47



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy & Ron Weasley Friendship, Draco Malfoy Has Issues, Draco Malfoy Has a Crush on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Forgiveness, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26111209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tharin47/pseuds/Tharin47
Summary: A few weeks after Voldemort’s defeat, Malfoy Manor burns down. Harry and Ron didn’t plan to get involved, but when do they ever … Without a house to spend his house arrest in, Draco Malfoy is going to be send to Azkaban until his trial. Predictably, Harry’s saving people thing kicks in. Surprisingly, so does Ron’s.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 78
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A sudden craving for post war HP-fic led me down the Drarry rabbit hole. I became interested in writing about Draco Malfoy, and wanted to explore how he dealt with what must have felt like the destruction of everything he took for granted. This story is gen, but it might as well be pre-slash. It's up to you! (It's also a WIP, and might get updated very, very slowly. I've got small children at home. Writing time is spare.)
> 
> English is not my native language, and I'm thankful for anyone pointing out gross errors.

Malfoy Manor was ablaze. For a moment, Harry had a terrible flashback of the Fiendfyre. From the look on his face, Ron, at his side, felt the same.

oOo

  
Nearly two months had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts. The war was over, but the Aurors were still rounding up Death Eaters. Harry and Ron had had a meeting with interim Minister Kingsley, concerning the Horcruxes.

  
The wizarding world wanted to hear Harry’s story, wanted to know how he had managed to defeat Voldemort. Harry had reluctant agreed to talk to a reporter, and let him or her write a long essay about the last year. They just had to figure out how to talk about the Horcruxes without giving the next wannabe Dark Lord ideas.

  
Therefore, Kingsley had cleared his schedule to meet this afternoon with Harry, Ron and someone from the Department of Mysteries at Grimmauld Place. He had said Harry might be more comfortable talking in familiar surroundings then the Minister’s office. Harry hadn’t protested. He knew that it would be difficult to answer Kingsley’s questions, and being at home might actually help.

  
It was still strange to think of Grimmauld Place as “home”, but since his relationship with Kreacher had improved so much, the house felt at whole lot friendlier. He and Ron had started some renovations, and he was determinate to make this place _his_ home.

  
Evening settled in as they were telling the story about their break-in into Gringotts, when a silver Patronus arrived for Kingsley.

  
“Minister Shacklebolt, Malfoy Manor is burning down. We’ve send a team to put the fire out and investigate, but for now we don’t know what caused it. It might be a dormant spell left by You-know … by Voldemort.” The silver cat said with a man’s voice.

  
“I’ll better take a look”, Kingsley said gravely. “I hope we’re not dealing with any time-triggered remaining curses from Voldemort.”

Harry had been on his feet in an instance, and Ron followed suit. He knew where this was leading to.

  
“We’re coming with you! Aren’t Malfoy and his mother on house arrest in the Manor?” Harry asked. Kingsley nodded.

“Oh, joy”, said Ron, “let’s go save Malfoy – again.”

oOo

They apparated to the gates, but the wards were down. A quick, second apparation brought them in front of the house.

The Manor was burning, ablaze against the darkening sky. But there wasn’t the blur of activity Harry had expected. In fact, the group of Aurors seemed content to simply stand there, watching the Manor burn down.

  
One of them saw them coming and came to greet Kingsley: “Minister! It’s just false alarm.”

“False? The house is burning down, is it not?” Kingsley raised his eyebrow.

“Yes Sir, but that Malfoy boy did it himself. He’s burning down his own house.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked.

The Auror nodded. “He’s over there, drunk as hell.”

  
Indeed, a few feet away, Draco Malfoy slouched on the grass. He was surrounded be bottles, and watched the flames with bright eyes. It was a strange sight, and Harry could not help to wonder if Malfoy had finally snapped.

“He must have gone crazy.” Ron said. “Burning down his house?!”

Harry wandered over to where Malfoy was slouching on the grass, half sitting, and half laying down. “Malfoy, are you all right?”

Malfoy looked at him, and took a swig from the bottle.The light of the flames did nothing to hide the dark circles under his eyes.

“Potter. How fitting you should see me at every low point in my life. The destruction of Malfoy Manor. You might as well drink to it!” He offered the bottle.

Harry just stared at him, but Ron shrugged and took a swig. “That’d better not be poisoned again, ferret!”

“That’s 300 years old Firewhisky! Only an uncultured swine would put poison in such perfection!” Malfoy said. He sounded offended, of all things.

Harry and Ron shared a look. Neither of them knew how to deal with this strange situation.

“Won’t your father be pissed?” Ron asked, watching the Manor’s roof carve in.

“My father”, Malfoy said in a tight, controlled voice, “is going to spend the next twenty years in Azkaban. If he’s lucky. If he survives, he’s most likely going to crawl back into a bottle. Like he did during the last two years.”

  
Harry and Ron shared another look. “And you? Where are you going to live?” Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged. “Does it matter? I’ve got a cell in Azkaban waiting for me. Maybe they let me share Father’s… I won’t be needing a house for a very long time.”

He was still pretty coherent, but the overly careful, precise pronunciation betrayed him.

He took another long swig from the bottle.“There goes the ballroom. Well, we wouldn’t have gotten the bloodstains cleaned out of the floor anyway. And you can’t hold a ball in a graveyard. Good riddance.”

His eyes were brighter now, and he was biting on his lip, apparently lost in a memory. But then he took another long swig from the bottle, and looked up at Ron. “I’d never thought I’d hallucinate you. Potter, maybe. But Weasel?”

“Hallucination?” Ron mouthed.

Harry shrugged. “He’s absolutely pissed.”

Malfoy drank again, and gestured with his bottle: “And now you’re here, watching me to burn this slaughterhouse to the ground. You wouldn’t believe how many people they managed to kill here in two years…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked absolutely desolate.

“Give me that bottle!” Ron said. He drank, and tried to hand it back. But Malfoy looked at the bottle, at Ron, and back at the bottle.

“I’m sorry about the other bottle, Weasel. I didn’t …I didn’t meant to kill you. I’m so sorry!”

To their horror, he started to cry.

Ron cast a wide eyed, helpless look at Harry. But it wasn’t like Harry had any idea how to deal with this. The last time he had been confronted with a crying Malfoy …

  
So they sat down next to Malfoy, and Ron awkwardly said: “There, there…” giving him a little pat on the shoulder.

“Just don’t try to poison me again. Or somebody else.”

Malfoy sniffled. Harry gave him a handkerchief.

“I’m so glad you killed him. I hate him.” Malfoy said.

“You’re welcome?” Harry said.

“Maybe one day I manage to tell real Potter, too. I guess I could write letters from Azkaban…” He gave a watery laugh. “That’s going to keep me busy, apologizing for every shite I’ve ever did.”

“That’s going to keep you busy for a few years.” Ron said. But there was no malice in his voice, and he handed Malfoy the bottle back.

Malfoy drank again. “Malfoys don’t apologise, according to Father. But maybe that’s just one more thing where he’s utterly wrong!”

“You sound angry with him.” Harry said. He could not help himself. In all the years he’d known Draco Malfoy, the other boy had never admitted his father could be wrong about something. But this was something new.

“I _am_ angry.” Malfoy shrugged. “I’m angry beyond belief. But I shouldn’t be. They’re my parents. They always wanted to protect me - except when father swore fealty to a monster.”

“It’s ok to be angry at your parents”, Ron said. “Especially if you have such a good reason.”

“Wise, Hallucination-Weasel, very wise!” Malfoy said. “But I can’t get angry at him. I’d never stop. He won’t survive Azkaban if I hate him.”

He looked lost, and very young.

In front of them, the Manor burnt brightly against the dark sky. It was actually nice, Harry thought, so see Voldemort’s stronghold being destroyed. But then he remembered it had been Malfoy’s home far longer, and he felt bad about thinking it. As he turned to look at Malfoy, he discovered the other boy had curled up on his side, and was softly snoring.

Ron carefully took the bottle out of Malfoy’s hands.

“Did the Aurors all leave?” Harry said. “We can’t just leave him here.”

Ron shrugged. “Cast a warming charm on him. He’s going to have the hangover from hell, that’s for sure.”

Harry frowned. “People can suffocate on their own vomit. That’s why you shouldn’t leave drunk people on their own. And the wards are down. Anyone could find him here.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Harry!” Ron growled. He bend down and hoisted Malfoy in a fireman’s hold over his shoulder. “I’ll side along him, and we’ll stuff him on the couch. If he pukes on me, I’m blaming you!”

They appareated away, leaving the Manor burning brightly in the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burning down Malfoy Manor might be extrem, but my version of Draco is utterly gutted by everything that happend in the last two years. He kind of tries to exorcise his demons - with partial success.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning brings visitors and unexpected developments.

Harry had awoken at dawn, a habit he’d developed over years and years of being forced to do chores for the Dursleys as soon as the sun rose up. He showered and heard Ron get up, too. Then he remembered Malfoy. He went back to his room to get Malfoy’s wand. Harry had planned to return it at Malfoy’s trial, but there was no reason not to do it now.

There was no sound audible from the living room, but as he glanced carefully around the door, Malfoy was sitting up, the blanket tight around his shoulders, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Harry said. “There’s hangover potion next to you.”

Malfoy went very, very still. He looked confused, hangover, and absolutely terrified.

It seemed wrong to Harry. Malfoy never had been afraid of him. There was no reason to start now.

So Harry did the first thing that came to mind: he said “Catch!” and threw Malfoy the hawthorn wand. Seeker’s reflexes made sure the other boy caught it, but he seemed utterly perplexed.

“I wanted to give it back at your trial, but since you’re here now…” Harry said. “So, how much do you remember from last night?”

“Most of it … I think.” Malfoy said carefully. “You were really there?”

“Yes, we came with Kingsley. Come on, breakfast is ready!” Harry said. He led Malfoy to the kitchen. Any serious talk would have to wait. Besides, he suspected none of them would know what to say.

oOo

Breakfast was an awkward affair. Malfoy took a seat at the table in the kitchen, looking like a man walking to the gallows. He was quiet, strangely subdued. It was a behaviour so atypical for Draco Malfoy, Harry started to worry that all the alcohol might have done some lasting damage. The way he was sitting, eyes fixed on the table in front of him, was reminding Harry to much of how Malfoy had looked in his vision about Professor Burbage’s death. It felt wrong, but Harry had no idea how to change it.

Luckily, Ron didn’t care. He had taken over cooking breakfast most mornings, after a heated discussion with Kreacher. They had reached a stalemate, and Ron and Harry were “allowed” to cook as long as none of them tried to do actual cleaning.

Right now, Ron finished the eggs and put them on plates. The delicious smell of eggs, bacon, sausages and toast filled the kitchen. Harry made tea and distributed cups.

Ron dropped a plate in front of Malfoy and said: “Eat! A good breakfast is the only way to deal with a hangover!”

Malfoy blinked. He still looked very confused, but that was better than terrified. “I’m either still drunk and having very disturbing dreams, or you poisoned this.”

Ron grinned: “Only one way to find out.” Malfoy opened his mouth, closed it, shrugged, and started to eat.

It was a very strange sight. Draco Malfoy, sitting at his kitchen table. But Harry didn’t mind. They had been through a war, they survived, and he wasn’t able to hate the other boy anymore. In the end, Malfoy had been all talk, and crumbled under the reality of serving Voldemort pretty fast. 

A short time late, Malfoy pushed his plate back. He folded his hands in front of him, looking warily from Harry to Ron. “I’m grateful for your hospitality, but I can’t help to wonder about your motive. Do you wish to end breakfast with a round of torture?”

“ _No!_ ” Harry said.

“Saving your bloody arse is Harry’s new hobby.” Ron said, as if he hadn’t just started to feed Malfoy like a stray cat he’d found in an alley.

“It was getting cold, the wards were down, and you were pissed.” Harry shrugged. “Didn’t seemed right to leave you there.”

Malfoy was still looking like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but Harry didn’t know how to explain his sudden lack of hate without sounding condescending.

He was saved by the bell. Kreacher announced “Visitors, Master Potter. They are looking for Master Malfoy.”

oOo

There were two Aurors waiting in the Entrance Hall. “Mister Potter! It’s such a great honour to meet you! I’m Auror Smith, this is Auror Jenkins.” the taller man said.

“Thanks”, Harry said uncomfortable, shaking the offered hand. “How can I help you?”

“We’re looking for Draco Malfoy. He’s violating the terms of his house arrest. The tracing spell led us to your house.” The other Auror – Jenkins – said.

“Not that we think he’s here!” Smith said quickly. “There must be something wrong with the spell!”

“No”, Harry said, leading them to the kitchen. “Malfoy is here. Ron and I were at the Manor yesterday. He’d set it on fire, and was totally drunk. We brought him here.”

“And now we’re here to take him off your hands! Thank you for keeping an eye on him. Who knows where he might have tried to escape to … But now it’s Azkaban for him! Violating his house arrest was really stupid.” Smith said, smiling brightly.

“But that was our fault”, Harry said. Smith looked entirely too happy on the prospect of sending Malfoy to Azkaban.

“He wasn’t trying to violate the terms of his house arrest. He was really drunk, the house had burned down, wards were down, and he didn’t had a wand. Besides, it’s autumn. We couldn’t just let him sleep it off in the gardens, it gets way too cold at night.”

Jenkins muttered something like “Would serve him right.”, as they stepped into the kitchen, but Smith said: “Nevertheless, since there is no house to bring him back to for his house arrest until the trial, we’ll take him to Azkaban.”

Malfoy flinched. He had stepped away from the table, awaiting the Aurors. He was back to looking terrified, and Harry unconsciously took a step forward, positioning himself between Malfoy and the Aurors.

Ron said: _“Harry!”_ under his breath.

“He could stay here”, Harry said. “It’s just a month until the trial, right?”

“Yes,” Auror Smith said. “If you are sure…”

“There are restrictions that prevent him from doing most magic.” Auror Jenkins said. He went over to Malfoy and roughly pulled on his right arm. There was a bracelet around Malfoy’s wrist, engraved with steadily glowing runes. “If he tries something, owl us. We’d _love_ to take him off your hands.”

“You’ve been forced to deal with Death Eaters long enough, Mr. Potter. You should be able to enjoy your life, after everything you’ve done for us. Owl us anytime when you want to get rid of him!” Auror Smith said.

As soon as the door had closed behind the two Aurors, Ron turned to Harry. “You know, he’s partly right. We talked about relaxing. New hobbies, getting this place ready to live in it, maybe getting a pet. Maybe even an owl for you.” He gestured in Malfoys direction, who was watching him with slight alarm. “ _This_ is not an owl!”

“Well”, Malfoy drawled, “you could always transfigure me into a ferret again. Might be easier for everyone involved.”

Harry was too surprised to control his laughter.

“Oh yes, The Amazing Bouncing Ferret.” Ron said dreamily, “these were the good times!”

Harry sobered up. “Sorry, I didn’t asked if you want to stay here. If you have somewhere else to go, I’m sure we could clear it with the Auror´s department.”

“It might be shocking to hear, but I find myself lacking relatives who were on the right side of this war. Most of my friends have parents who are also awaiting trial." Malfoy said, "So no, I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Harry almost smiled. _There you are._ This sounded more like the old Draco Malfoy.

“Okay, so I show you the guest room and maybe you want to take a shower?” he asked.

Malfoy nodded, and followed him to the stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember if Harry saw Prof. Burbage's death in a vision, but for this story, let's pretend he did.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is not sure what has happend, but he's talking about colour schemes and renovating. It's probably some kind of alternate universe ...

The Shower was warm. Draco stood under the spray, letting his head sink against the cold tiles. He could not quite figure out what had happened this morning. How on earth did he ended up in Potter’s house? Potter had saved him – again, at least until his trial. It figured.

Breakfast had helped, but he was still nauseated. His head won’t stop spinning. He felt light-headed, but that might be the lack of sleep.

Sleeping for longer than one or two hours at once was a thing of the past. Strange how he used take a good night’s sleep for granted.

It had been nearly impossible to find a room Voldemort hadn’t used, hadn’t soiled. After his mother was gone, he’d found refuge in the house elves’ quarters. They were small and cramped, but also untouched by the Dark Lord and his followers. He’d spend the last weeks in there, warily watched by the house elves, who did not really know how to deal with him in their space.

The change of locations had not helped. He was probably close to magical exhaustion, but he just could not sleep. The Manor was full of nightmares which kept him awake.

_Was._

_The Manor was gone._

The thought of having the whole house reduced to ash brought no regret.

He only felt relief.

Potter had given him clothing, and Draco dressed mechanically. They were probably the Weasel’s cloths, they are close to the same height. A part of him wanted to sneer at the thought of wearing Weasel’s castoffs, but he’ll be wearing prison garb soon enough. It would be hypocritical.

He ventured out of the bathroom, only to narrowly avoid a collision with Potter. Potter was carrying sheets and blankets. “Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”

Draco followed him along the dimly lit corridor, until Potter opened a door and gestured him inside. “I hope that’s all right. We’re still renovating the house, but this room should be fine.”

“Potter, I was expecting a cell in Azkaban. This is more then fine. Thanks.”

Potter blinked, like he was taken aback by simple thanks. But it might be the fact that it was _Draco_ who just offered his thanks.

But then he said: “Ron and I are working in the library. If you want to, you’re welcome to help. Or you could just find something to read, I don’t know …”

It doesn’t seem to be code for “We want to torture you”. But they’re Gryffindors, so it’s kind of strange they would want to spend time in a library.

Draco shrugged, and followed him. A part of him was still not entirely sure if this was real. But this strange case fire between Potter, Weasel and himself was nice. It’s been a very long time since something felt nice, and he was reluctant to let it pass.

oOo

The library was a big, spacious room, all dark wood and chesterfield sofas. It had a big fireplace, where a vacant space above indicates a family portray was removed recently. A massive, vintage writing desk in a corner next to a window makes him pause. It looks familiar, the dark wood and the distinctive golden intarsia, and it takes him a moment to realize that this is the twin to his mother’s writing desk.

“This is the old Black house.” he said.

Potter nodded. He had taken seat on the big Shirvan rug in front of the fireplace, and spread some _colour sample pages?_ around himself. “Yes. Sirius Black was my godfather. I’ve inherited it from him.”

Weasel – _Weasley_ said: “We’re trying to renovate the house, room after room. Kreacher has done a great job in cleaning everything, but Harry wants to get rid of all those stuffy curtains.” He’s spelling the black curtains in question off their curtain rail, which makes the whole room brighter to an increasing degree.

Potter nodded: “And some of the furniture, and definitely all of the awful decoration. I like the idea of living here, but I want a bright house, not the tomb it’s right now.”

“You have to start with the walls, once you’ve settled on a colour scheme. The dark wainscoting is going to look really nice in contrast to a lighter colour. And find a matching rug and curtains, maybe a shade darker then the wall colour. The sofas could be a nice contrast point, if you change their colour.” Draco said. He settled on Potter’s rug, next to one of the sofas, and leant his back against the stiff leather.

They both stared at him, astonished, and he shrugged: “Mother was always renovating rooms in the Manor. I know more about renovation, decoration and colour schemes then I ever wanted to.”

For a moment, he marvels on the thought that after all that has happened, he’s sitting here with Potter and Weasley to talk about house renovation. It was downright surreal, and he pinched himself.

But then Weasley asked: “Malfoy, where _is_ your mom?”

He knew the peace was temporary, but it would have been nice to think of colour and renovation for a little while longer. He took a deep breath: “They put her in Azkaban, too.”

Potter’s eyebrows rose up. “But she was under house arrest. Kingsley said so!”

Draco tried to keep his voice calm, but he started to fiddle with the bracelet around his wrist. “Three weeks ago, the Aurors were cleaning out the Manor. One of them triggered a trap – something Aunt Bellatrix was fond of. A flesh eating curse got his hands and arms before they could react. Mother had been arguing with him only minutes before, and they decided she lured him in it on purpose.”

“Nah”, Weasley said. “Your father is the vindictive one, right? Your mother wouldn’t be this stupid, not right before your trials.”

Draco had to laugh. How come Weasley understood in _five seconds_ what he had tried to tell the Aurors for hours? It had been a mistake. Identifying cursed objects was essential to an Aurors work. If this Auror hadn’t be so fixated on destroying as much as he could get away with during his “search”, he would not have fallen for Aunt Bellatrix’ trap.

“I could write Kingsley”, Potter said. “He seemed to think she was at the Manor, maybe he doesn’t know.”

“And maybe he forgot, because he has a whole government to build up.” Weasley said. He vanished the pile of curtains.

“She saved my life”, Potter said. “I wouldn’t wish Azkaban on my worst … well, actually there are a few people I think deserve to be in Azkaban, but Narcissa Malfoy is not one of them.”

Draco didn’t dare to hope. But this was _Potter_ , and surely he had sort of political sway, after defeating the Dark … Vol- ... Him.

“I’ll ask Kingsley.” Potter promised.

Draco nodded. “Thank you.” He was back to feeling light-headed, but this time, it might be relief.

“Back to the library!” Weasley boomed. “Harry, colour!” He waved another big book of colour samples at Potter’s face. It was a very transparent attempt to change the topic, but Potter obliged and started to spread more sample pages abound them.

When he trusted his voice, Draco ventured: “Why the library?”

“We did the kitchen first.” Potter answered. “Our bedrooms were next, we’ve gotten the painting done. They’re not finished, but they are a lot nicer.”

“The library is for Hermione.” Weasley said.

“Where is Granger? There’s not… has something happened to her?”

“No, she’s fine. She has gone to Australia, to bring her parents back.” Seeing Draco’s confused glance, he explained: “She was afraid they would go after them. So she obliviated them, removed herself from their minds, and send them to Australia.”

Draco blinks. _“She obliviated her parents?!”_

Ron shrugged. “That’s Mione for you. Ruthless when she needs to be. She wanted to keep them save more than anything else. Something you should be familiar with.”

Draco bit his lip. “She found a way without … without everything I did.”

Graciously, neither Potter nor Weasley comment on this. They spend the afternoon in the library, stripping the wallpapers and painting the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... unexpected renovation skills. Who knew Draco would be good at this?! Certainly not me *g*  
> The next chapter brings an unexpected visitor ...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor ... or two?

The next morning brought a visitor. After breakfast, Harry and Ron had removed the furniture from the living room. They were grinding down the parquet, before they would start working on the walls. Like most of the renovation work, Kreacher could have done this, too; but while house elf magic was good for many tasks, groundwork like this lasted longer if done with human magic. They had not heard a noise from Malfoy. Either he was still sleeping, or hadn’t want to come down yet.

The Fireplace flashed to life, the green flames flickering behind the fireguard.

“Dad?” Ron asked, surprised, as he heard his father call through the Floo.

“Ron! Hello, son! May I come through?”

“Yes, sure Dad!”

As Arthur Weasley stepped out of the fireplace, Harry and Ron stopped their work.

“Is everything all right? Has something happened?” Ron asked, his voice tense.

His father shook his head. “No, don’t worry. I just needed to speak with you. A few minutes ago, I had the most confusing conversation with an Auror Smith. We were sharing a lift, and he told me the Malfoy boy is staying here with you?”

“Yes.” Harry said. “Arthur, I know you have every reason to hate his father, but …”

Arthur brushed his stammered explanation aside. “Harry, that’s all right. But _why_ is he here?”

“He burned down his house. He was really drunk, the wards were down, and he didn’t had a wand. Besides, it’s autumn. We couldn’t just let him sleep it off in the gardens, it gets way too cold at night.” Harry explained. “And the next morning the Aurors said they were going to take him to Azkaban until his trial.”

He thought Arthur was here to scold them, but Ron had narrowed his eyes at his father, and asked annoyed: "Are you here to make sure we don't torture him?"

"Ronald, I know that you and Harry don't torture people. But you and this boy were at each other's throats for nearly seven years, and I wanted to make sure you didn't do something you might regret later." Arthur said. “The way Auror Smith talked... He said hopefully you would "teach the little bastard a lesson", and a lot more vile, derogative things. That might have given me the wrong impression."

Harry unconsciously grabbed his wand tighter. His first, bad impression of Auror Smith had just gotten worse. Did the man really believe Harry and Ron would torture Malfoy?!

“Oy, Ferret! Get down here!” Ron bellowed up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Malfoy appeared in the doorway. “You shouted, Weasel?” he drawled, but stopped short at the sight of Arthur. “Mr. Weasley.” His expression turned guarded.

Arthur nodded at him: “Draco.”

“Dad heard from Auror Smith you were here. He wants to make sure we’re not torturing you.” Ron said.

“What?” He looked from Ron to Arthur. The wary, guarded look on his face had given way to dumbfounded astonishment.

“Dad, we feed him three meals a day, he sleeps in one of the guest bedrooms, and he’s toilet trained.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows at his son. “Ronald.”

“Sorry, Dad.” Ron said sheepish.

“I’d like to speak to Draco alone, please.” Arthur said.

Harry nodded. “Sure. Use the kitchen? There are cinnamon buns left from breakfast.”

Arthur led the way, a confused Malfoy following behind. He cast a bewildered look over his shoulder at Harry, but Harry just smiled and made a shooing gesture at him.

oOo

As he followed Arthur Weasley into the kitchen, Draco couldn’t help the dread creeping in. It had been too good to be true. Weasley’s father had found out about him, and wasn’t happy about a Death Eater living with his son and the precious Saviour. He would end up in Azkaban after all. Potter and Weasley had been downright nice and friendly, but this was Weasley’s _father_. They surely wouldn’t start a fight with him on Draco’s behalf.

In the kitchen, Mr. Weasley gestured to the table. “Sit down, Draco. I met Auror Smith in the lift this morning, and he gave me the wrong impression about your stay here. I just wanted to make sure you are all right.”

“Weas- Ron was not joking? You’re here to make sure they don’t torture me?!” Draco said. He could not keep the astonishment from his voice.

Mr. Weasley nodded. “As much as I love my son, I know he can get nasty in a fight. I love Harry just the same, but he has a temper. I’m sure you’re able bring out the worst in both of them.”

Draco shrugged. "It's not like I did not had it coming. And I doubt anyone would care."

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him. “I would care. I did not raise my sons to hurt someone who can’t fight back.”

For some reason, this struck a nerve. “Potter gave me back my wand. I’m not _helpless_! I was a Death Eater, for Merlin’s sake! I know more dark curses then any of you!”

And now he was throwing a tantrum like the spoiled child he used to be. _Way to go Draco, way to go._ It would be way more sensible to make himself look harmless, to convince Weasley that he was meek and subdued. Of all the times for his temper to raise above the numbness!

"But you would not dare to alienate people who could get you thrown in Azkaban.” Mr. Weasley paused, looking Draco over like he was checking for injuries. “Marked or not, you were a child. You still are. You had no business being part of a war. None of you, least of all Harry. It's my generation who messed up."

He looked tired, and Draco suddenly remembered one of the Weasleys had been killed. He could not remember which one.

“Why do you care? You hate my family.” He asked.

“I’ve come to hate your father. Not because of ideological differences, or even his blatant disregard for human lives, but because he gave my eleven year old daughter a piece of Voldemort’s soul. She needed a very long time to recover from that.”

Draco flinched. He had learned the truth about the Chamber of Secrets when the Dark L…- when _He_ greeted his father, fresh out of Azkaban, with the Cruciatus Curse and raged about how Lucius had cost him a priceless artefact of great power. It had been one of many, rather broad hints that the Malfoys were out of favour. Watching his father convulse with pain, it became quite clear to Draco that the possibility of their whole family being killed by the Dark Lord had reached vast proportions.

“If it’s any consolation, he was very, very cross with Father because of that. Tortured him for hours.” He offered.

Weasley shook his head. “It’s not. I would not wish hour-long torture on anyone.”

He summoned two cups and filled them with tea, offering one to Draco. “I don’t hate you. You were a prejudiced, spoiled and rather cruel child, but I suppose you did a lot of growing up these last years. I want you to tell me honestly if this arrangement with Ron and Harry is working for you. If it’s not, you can stay with us until the trial. Afterwards, we work something out.”

Draco curled his fingers around his cup of tea. This _had_ to be a trap. It had to be. No one could be this noble, this _good_ , to offer a safe haven to the son of his worst enemy. But Draco had gotten pretty good at figuring out people who wished him harm, even if they came in the guise of sympathy and support. There was no trace of deceitfulness in Arthur Weasleys open, honest face.

“Thank you”, he said. “But Potter and your son have been very kind. And it’s only four weeks until the trial. I guess I won’t need accommodation afterwards.”

Mr. Weasley stood. “All right.” He walked past Draco, and stopped his rest his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Give us a call if you have reason to change your mind.”

Draco nodded, and Mr. Weasley snatched a cinnamon bun on his way to the Floo.

oOo

Potter and Weasley had finished the living room. They continued to tackle the ground floor, and after figuring out the draft in the living room was coming from the big ice cellar, Draco had his next task set out to him. He was on his way to the cellar, to see if he were able to figure out why the cooling charms go haywire. It was one of the hundred small tasks that require a wizard’s magic, not only a house elves’. Not that his magic was up to task right now, but if he figured it out, all he needed was Potter for a power blast, and it should run smoothly. Keeping busy took his mind off Azkaban, and the grim future awaiting him there.

He was halfway across the Entrance Hall when the door opened, and he came face to face with Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, that's mean. Cliffhanger, got to love them, right? :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is back home

Draco had no time to react. Granger’s eyes were wide-eyed with surprise, but a second later she cast a silent full Body-Bind Curse at him without hesitation. He dropped to the floor, luckily landing on his side instead of falling flat on his face. He was still able to see Granger, not that it helped anything. Granger’s eyes darted around the Entrance Hall, looking for threats. She went over to him, and wrestled his wand out of his back pocket.

She did a series of wand movements he recognized as some kind of detection spell, and having seen the results, she started to yell for Weasley and Potter. “Ron?! Harry! Where are you?!”

They both came running, wands drawn, and Granger threw her arms around Weasley.

“Ron, thank god! What happened? What is Malfoy doing here? The Fidelius Charm is still active, what …” Weasley hugged her back. “It’s alright”, he said, “everything is fine, ‘Mione.”

Potter had discovered Draco, and ended the Body-Bind Curse. He gave him a hand to stand up, and said “Sorry, we should have warned her.” Draco shrugged, and folded his arms as Granger’s sharp gaze turned to him.

“Warned me about what?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

Potter dragged a hand through his hair. “Malfoy is staying here. Until his trial.”

Granger’s eyebrows rose high. “Is this a recent development?”

“What?” was Potter’s clever answer.

“Since when is he staying here?”

“Uh, two days ago?”

“ _Harry James Potter!_ You could have told me about this two days ago?!” Granger threw her hands up in aggravation.

“Sorry?” Potter said. 

Weasley made the mistake of laughing at Potter, and Granger turned on him: “Ron? What exactly prevented _you_ from telling me?”

“Uh, it’s … it was Harry’s idea!”

_“Of course it was!”_ she said exasperated. “Anything that’s about Malfoy is always Harry’s idea. But still! You two have some explaining to do!”

  
She still had his wand, but Draco had hoped to get out of the room as long as she was busy yelling at Potter and Weasley. But he had barley sidled back two steps when she turned him: “And you! Don’t you dare to move!”

He froze. Memories of Third Year came to mind.

  
“Maybe we should take things to the kitchen?” Potter suggested. “You must be hungry, Hermione.”

She nodded. “International Portkeys are terrible. Tea would be nice.”

  
  


The Gryffindors set off to the kitchen, but Draco lingered behind. Granger and Weasley were already going down the stairs, but Potter stopped.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.

Draco wanted to rather do almost anything else then listening to the tale of how pathetic he was, but as the last two years had taught him, his wishes didn’t matter anyway.

  
  


As he reached the dark hallway outside the kitchen, he heard Granger asking: "So they just let you keep him here, his magic bound, and nobody checked to see if you were treating him right? You’ll have to pass more checks to buy an owl! _Honestly!_ This is the epitome of everything that's wrong with the wizarding world!"

To hear someone get so upset on his behalf was nice. Given that it was Granger, she was upset on principle, about general injustice, and certainly not because it was _him_. But these days, indifferent kindness was still so much more then he deserved. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"It's not like anyone would care. Besides, I most likely deserve everything that might happen." he said quietly, lingering on the threshold to the bright kitchen. Granger turned a cold gaze at him.

  
"You're a bigoted bully, and you let Death Eaters into a school. That does not mean you deserve being left at the mercy of your enemies. Law and justice are supposed to do better than revenge. If we give in to that, we're not better than your side."

  
“Arthur came to check on him.” Harry said.

  
“At least someone with common sense.” Granger said. She smiled at Weasley, who handed her a cup of tea. “But that should have been an Auror’s job. And what about his lawyer? Has he seen him?”

  
It had not even occurred to Draco to talk to his solicitor. Not after his mother had been brought to Azkaban. There was no point.

  
Given the look Weasley and Potter shared, none of them had been thinking about a solicitor either. Granger gave a deep sigh. “Honestly, boys!” But then she broke into a rueful smile. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  
Weasley hugged her again, and Potter followed suit. “Tell us about your parents”, Potter said. “You can fix the wizarding world afterwards.”

  
Draco turned away, melting into the shadows. The cordially reunion of the Golden Trio was no place for him.

oOo  
  


His room was dark, but it fit his mood. Draco didn’t bother to use the permanent charm to turn on the lights, he just sat down against the wall, keeping the bed between himself and the door. He let his head hit the wall.

_“You let Death Eaters into a school”_

Granger’s voice, hard and cold, was running through his head. He had a lot of crimes to answer for, but this was his worst. He had been so focused on fulfilling his task, even the people he nearly murdered bareley registered on his mind. But after Dumbledore’s death, as he was fleeing the scene of his crime, running along a bunch of murderers and monsters, who were hurling curses at anything that moved, he suddenly became afraid how many more people – children – would die this night. He had let the likes of Fenrir Greyback loose onto his schoolmates.

When Potter came looking for him, knocking on the doorframe, he was convinced the Aurors were coming to fetch him.

“Malfoy? Dinner is ready.”

  
“Do I have time to eat, before the Aurors turn up?” Draco asked.

  
“Aurors?” Potter asked back, brows furrowed. He turned on the lights.

  
Draco stood up. “To bring me to Azkaban? Granger is back, and she doesn’t want me here.”

  
“Doesn’t mean she wants you in Azkaban.” Potter said.

  
Draco raised an eyebrow: „Are you sure?”

  
Potter shrugged. “She’s not happy, but since the Wizarding World – or at least Britain – don’t have anything like custody pending trial in a remand centre, only in Azkaban, she understands why you’re here now.”

Did these people ever get tired of being so righteous? Draco wondered. But he followed Potter down the stairs.

Dinner was an even stranger affair then during the last two days. As before, they were eating at the big kitchen table. The dining room had not been renovated, yet. Potter and Weasley seemed to prefer the kitchen anyway.  
Yesterday, Potter and Weasley had talked about the renovation, and Draco had actually contributed to the conversation. It was a safe topic. One could almost pretend … But now that Granger was back, he didn't dare to open his mouth. He played with his food, quietly focused on appear to be eating. Food made him nauseous, these days.

"It’s strange that you’re so quiet, Malfoy”, Weasel said, after the conversation about Australia had lulled. “I used to think nothing would ever get you to shut up. I don’t miss that little shit, but right now you walk around like an animated corpse.”

  
_“Ron!”_ Granger said.

  
Draco shrugged. “The little shit died under the Dark _… His_ Cruciatus. I’m not sure what’s left. But I’ll have plenty of time in Azkaban to figure out a new personality.” Given the look the Golden Trio treaded, they were not sure if this was gallows humour, or if he had lost his marbles. It wasn’t like Draco knew the answer, either.

  
He’d spend the last two years feeling nothing but terror. He’d tried to bury that terror under numbness, but by now, he hardly knew how to feel anything else.

If he ever got his feelings back, there would be the overwhelming task to examine his believes, his morals and values. Right now, everything he knew and believed in is torn to pieces, and he can’t be sure anything he was taught is true. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it becomes quite clear that Draco has a ton of problemes, most notably the depression and the PTSD.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermions talks about her parents, and the Golden Trio has an important conversation about therapy.

Malfoy had excused himself after Dinner, almost fleeing the kitchen in his haste to get away. It was rather funny, Harry thought, in a morbid way, how Malfoy had no problem being in the same room as Ron, despite the fact that he had nearly killed him, but balked at facing Hermione, in whose torture he had been a mere bystander.

They had settled in the living room. They curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace, like they had done countless times in their common room back at Hogwarts. Harry kindled the fire with a flick of his wrist.

"How are your parents?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed. "Angry. Angry beyond belief, but also very relieved. They are furious I made this decision without giving them a choice. My mother said if an unbreakable vow works for her, she wants me to take one, to never do this again. She said she understood why I did it, but she's still furious. Dad was quieter, but he agrees with her."

Ron started to stroke her hand, and she snuggled against him. Harry gave her a small smile.

"Surely they come around if they realize how bad it was. You only wanted to protect them."

She shrugged. "I hope they can really forgive me someday. They are going to take the long way back, via plane. It gives me time to figure out how to get their life back. If that's even possible. Kingsley has offered the help of some Obliviators, but my parents aren’t going to allow me to change people's memories just to get things back to how it was a year ago. My Dad said he's going to found a support group for parents and siblings of Muggleborn students. To help others navigate in a new world that thinks of them as lesser beings."

"Lesser beings?" Ron said.

Hermione nodded. "He's right. I made the decision to obliviate them because I was terrified of losing them. But I did not offer them a choice. I told myself they could not possibly understand what was at stake, and I had to make the decision for them. That was wrong."

"You tried to protect them!" Harry repeated. Hermione had a tendency to beat herself up over her mistakes, but he refused to call sending her parents to safety a mistake. If the Death Eaters had not been so notoriously bad at navigating the Muggle World, they would have been far too easy to find.

"I should not have taken their choice away. My mum said she might forgive me, but she's still going to be angry for a long time."

"It's a start." Ron said.

"Mum said she wants to know everything. I need a pensive, I think. Maybe they understand my decision better if they see my memories."

"Do you really want to show them _everything_?" Harry asked. He was thinking about the events in Malfoy Manor.

From the look on her face, Hermione was thinking about it, too. "I don't _want_ to, but I have to do it. They deserve the truth."

She stared into the fire. The flickering flames threw lances of light into the shadows of the room, and bathed her face in warm, golden light. Nobody said something for a long moment.

Harry studied the familiar sight of Ron and Hermione next to each other on the sofa. They had not snuggled up like this in the past years, but seeing them like this still felt like coming home. He felt a sudden burst of tenderness. They had stood by him against all odds. They had gone up with him against a megalomaniac monster, and they had prevailed. They had won. It was finally over.

He stood abruptly and went to bring three mugs full of Hot Chocolate from the kitchen. Hermione smiled and took a sip. "Enough about my troubles. Tell me how things have been going for you in the last month. I have to say, you two keeping Malfoy out of Azkaban was not a development I would have anticipated."

"You know Harry", Ron said. "Can't help himself."

"You started feeding him first!" Harry said.

Hermione was laughing at them. "It's like you talking about a stray cat, not Draco Malfoy."

"Well, he's not really Malfoy-ish anymore. He burned down the Manor!" Ron said.

Harry nodded: "He really walks around like... like he's not really himself anymore."

"He very likely has his own case of PTSD." Hermione said. "And speaking of trauma, how are you two holding up?"

Harry and Ron shared a look. After nearly a year of sharing a tent (and six years of sharing a dorm), it had been unbearable to sleep in different rooms. They had started to sleep in the same bed two days after Hermione had left. They had all been camped out in the same bedroom anyway. They both had nightmares, and being next to each other made it more likely to keep them at bay.

"I should probably move back into my room”, Harry said reluctantly. "Give you two some privacy."

Hermione smiled impishly. "It's a big house, Harry. We can find privacy whenever we want."

Ron blushed. "Mione!"

Harry smiled. He was glad he didn't had to sleep alone in his empty room.

  
"I was sleeping really badly in Australia. It's going to feel good having you two next to me." Hermione said. She sat up straighter, a resolute look on her face, probably ready for a heated discussion.

"We need to speak about therapy. I've found a squib who specialized in war trauma, Dr. Anisha Kumar. She is a well well-respected psychologist, and we'll be able to tell her the whole truth about our world. I also found a solicitor who's going to draw up a non-disclosure contract, just to be sure. I want to be absolutely sure she can't talk to the press."

  
Harry should have known Hermione had not just given this a thought, but had already made ironclad plans.

To his surprise, Ron simply said "All right."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I was prepared to argue a lot more, because wizards don't really have therapy. Mind Healers are something very different."

Ron shrugged: "I would like to sleep without nightmares. And deal with … with Fred's death. Right now, it doesn't feel real. I still think he's at home, despite the funeral."

"Denial is a stage of grief", Hermione said. "How are your parents holding up?"

“Dad keeps busy in the Ministry. They have to weed out all of Voldemort's supporters. Mum is not good. She starts to cry most times I talk with her, and she keeps calling George Fred. She'd love if we all came to live in the Burrow."

"I'm so sorry." Hermione said.

  
Ron stretched out his long legs on the coffee table. "If this therapist really works for me, I might get Mom or George to try it out. Anything that helps would be great."

Hermione kissed him on the cheek, burrowing back into his side. She fixed Harry with an expectant look.

  
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I mean, I know you're right, and it would most likely help. But I feel fine right now. Actually, I'm happy. At least during the day I'm really damm happy for the first time in years, and then I remember all the dead, and I feel guilty."

Ron gave a bark of laughter. "The maniac who tried to kill you since you were one year old is finally dead. Mate, you're allowed to be happy about it!"

Harry shrugged: "It just seems unfair, because so many people lost so much."

"Thanks to you, we didn't lose more." Hermione said. "Harry, you've died for all of us. You're allowed to be happy."

"So maybe I'm ready to give it a try, too. It would be nice to get rid of the nightmares."

"It does not quite work that way, but I know what you mean. I'll make an appointment."

Harry nodded. He had a feeling he might regret giving his consent to try therapy. Dr. Kumar would most likely want to talk about his childhood, too. Wasn’t this how it was usually going? He was not sure he was ready to talk about the Dursleys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read a story about Hermione's parents some days ago, that gave the whole "modifying their memories" a rather dark twist. I don't really agree with the story (at least not in my AU), but it got me thinking about how her parents would have reacted. If anyone is interested, the story is "Hermione Granger and The Obliviated Parents" (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13204936/1/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione interrogates Draco.

The next morning, Harry and Hermione were already in the kitchen when Malfoy walked in. Harry was turning into the pantry, wanting to get some eggs and bacon out of the cooling storage. He saw a flash of white blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, and decided to keep himself busy in there for a few minutes more. He was sure Hermione would eventually see his point, regarding Malfoy, but she needed to make up her own mind.

Hermione was sitting at the table, one leg drawn up onto her chair, resting her chin on her knee, eyes fixed on a book that was popped up against the tea pot. Malfoy tried to walk out again, but she had already seen him. “Malfoy, sit.”

“I’m not a dog, you know.”

She raised her eyebrows: “But you’re so great at following orders. And your bark is far worse than your bite.”

Malfoy visibly swallowed whatever comeback had been on his tongue. Hermione smiled. “You’ve learned some self-control. Impressive.”

“And it only took me two years living with a monster who could read my mind.” Malfoy said. He sounded tired. The bags under his eyes were nearly black, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He looked utterly defeated, a far cry from the sneering bully he had been.

“I’m not going to fight you, Granger. What do you want? Hex me? Hit me again? Just do it.”

“Breakfast first”, Hermione said. She gestured to the chair across from her own. Malfoy sat down, and looked in confusion at the cup she levitated in front of him. She already had a cup of tea in front of her, right next to her book.

But now she was looking Malfoy over carefully, like he was a puzzle she was determined to solve. Harry knew that look all too well. It was always a little unnerving to have all of Hermione’s keen intellect focused on you.

“Is this a real chance of heart, I wonder. Or just a ploy to take advantage of the fact that Harry can’t help saving people?”

Harry, half hidden in the pantry, almost snorted. S.P.E.W., anyone? It wasn’t like Hermione didn’t had a strong leaning towards people saving, too.

“Does it matter?” Malfoy asked. “I’m going to Azkaban in about three weeks. You don’t have to worry about my intentions anymore.”

“Stop deflecting.”

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair.

“Maybe it’s … everything I’ve ever believed turned out to be wrong. Everything my parents taught me was wrong. It’s … I can’t …I’m not …I just couldn’t stand the sight of the Manor any longer.

Every childhood memory I have is tainted by what happened there in the last two years. There is no room that is not …”

He stopped, dragging a hand across his face. “My mother’s rose garden is full of people who were tortured to death. He kept the corpses to make Inferi. I’ll never be able to walk there again.”

Hermione just kept her keen eyes at him.

“So that’s how you did it. You know Harry can’t resist saving people. Knowing any of this, there was no way he would let them throw you into Azkaban. Not when you’re so clearly already broken.”

He flinched. This alone probably told her all she needed to know, Harry thought. The old Draco Malfoy would have gotten angry, would have ranted at her, but this one … he _was_ pretty broken, and Harry was not sure he would survive Azkaban.

He felt an odd surge of protectiveness. Maybe it was the memory of Sirius. He had been innocent, but he had not survived unaffected. What would this prison do to someone who had good reason to feel guilty?

Hermione said: ”I’m more curious about Ron, actually. He has every reason to hate you, especially since you nearly killed him. And he’s not one to fall for a sob story. How have you gotten him to protect you?”

“I told you, he burned down Malfoy Manor.” Ron said, stepping into the kitchen. His timing was so impeccable, he must have been listening for some time.

“Good riddance.” Hermione said. “But why did that change your mind?

“It’s a pureblood thing.” Ron said. “You know my family doesn’t believe in all this shit. But I can trace my ancestors back to a time before the Romans came. There were always Weasleys in Ottery St. Catchpole. Wizard families don’t really build towns or cities, with a few exceptions.

We build homes in places that resonate with our magic. It’s … over generations, the place becomes part of our family. The magic is stronger in ancient homes, and recognizes members of the family.

There have been Malfoys in Wiltshire since the times of William the Conqueror. To burn that down …” he stopped, his gaze wandering over to Malfoy. “You must have been pretty desperate.”

Malfoy tried to clear his face of emotion, but the exhaustion was still visible. “He tainted everything. The whole house felt wrong. It wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few charms – or an exorcism.”

They were interrupted by Kreacher, who said: “Miss Granger, there is a Mr. Billings for you in the Floo."

"Oh, good." Hermione said. "Malfoy, I’ve made you an appointment with your solicitor."

"Already?" Harry asked, who stepped back into the kitchen.

“Of course.” She said. “He should have been in contact with Malfoy weeks ago, I don’t know what he was waiting for.”

Malfoy looked at her with wide eyes. “You owled my solicitor?! But you hate me!”

Hermione looked at him. “My personal feelings are not important. I want justice, not mock trials. Besides, I have far more important things to do then hate a spineless bully who got in over his head.”

“Ouch.” Ron said, grinning. He dropped a kiss on Hermione’s head. 

“You’re something else, Granger.” Malfoy said, a faint smile on his face.

oOo

Mr. Billings had worked for Draco's family for the last twenty years. He was a pureblood, of course, but he had never been a Death Eater. He had kept his opinion about the Dark Lord to himself, but he never seemed to be devoted to the cause.

"Draco!" he said warmly. "How nice to see you, despite the circumstances. I was waiting for you to owl me."

Draco shrugged. He took a seat at the table in the dining room. The dark and stifled room was a stark contrast to the renovated rooms in the house, but seemed overly fitting for discussing his inevitable stay in Azkaban.

Potter, who had led them to the dining room, lingered.

“Mr. Potter, would you be so kind to give us some privacy? I need to speak with my client in confidentiality.” Mr. Billings said.

“Sure,” Potter said, “but I wanted to tell you to write me down as witness for the defence.”

“What? Why?!” Draco spluttered.

Mr. Billings’ eyebrows rose up. He made an inviting gesture to the table, closed the door and cast a privacy charm.

Potter blinked. “I always intended to. You helped us, at the Manor.”

“And what use was that? Granger still got tortured. You barely escaped, no thanks to me. It was Dobby who saved you.” Draco said.

Potter sat down next to Draco, and fixed him with a determinated look. “But your refusal to identify me gave him the time to do so. Why did you do it?”

Draco shrugged. “I didn’t want him to win. I was terrified of him. But I was too much of a coward to do anything about it.”

Potter took a deep breath. “I’m also going to testify for you because it became quite clear to me that you didn’t want to be a death eater. I had a … connection with Voldemort. Sometimes I saw things through his eyes. “

Draco could not believe his ears. He felt a hot surge of terror and shame: “You … you saw? You saw what he did?” 

Potter nodded. “Not always. But enough to know that at some point, he loved to torture you. And your parents. He found it very amusing to watch them beg.”

“He loved to make people beg. Tortured them anyway, so it did never any good.” Malfoy said, his voice forlorn. But then he seemed to shake off the memories, and turned to Mister Billings. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Billings. But I’m going to plead guilty to all charges.”

Mr. Billings started to shake his head: "I strongly advise you to rethink this decision. If we play up your youth, and relay on Mr. Potters testimony, we might get a lighter sentence or even get you acquitted. But if you refuse to defend yourself, you'll seem remorseless. The Wizengamot won't like it. "

Draco shook is head: "I've let Aunt Bella and Fenir Greyback loose in a _school_! What in the world could excuse this?!"

"He threatened to kill your parents." Potter said.

"I wanted to be a Death Eater! I took the mark willingly!"

Draco became aware that at some point, he had stood up, leaned across the table and was shouting at Potter.

He continued anyway: "I somehow tricked you into feeling sorry for me, when I should rot in Azkaban with all the other scum! Maybe it's time for me to get what I deserve!"

He could not look at Potter's serious face anymore, did not want to hear what he had to say, so he stormed out.

oOo

Draco hid in his room for the rest of the day. He was exhausted, but could not stop his thoughts from stumbling in all directions.

Between meeting Granger yesterday, thinking he was going to be shipped off to Azkaban any minute, being interrogated for breakfast today, and the disasterous meeting with his solicitor, it was no wonder he forgot to cast a silencing charm as he went to bed.

He screamed himself awake, squeezed into the small space between the wardrobe and the wall, and woke fully to the sound of his door being kicked in.

"Dammit, what... What's blocking the door?!"

"Wigardium Leviosa" said Granger's voice, and the Golden Trio stumbled into his room.

"Malfoy? He's not in his bed, where..."

"I found him." Weasley said, crouching down in front of Draco's hiding place. Draco scrambled back, his shoulder meeting the wall, bringing up his hands in a futile attempt to protect his head.

"Do you want to come out?"

Draco shook his head, a frantic movement. His eyes found Potter. "He's dead, isn't he?! Really, really dead?"

Weasley made space, and Potter settled down in front of Draco's hiding place. "He's dead. He's not coming back. Never."

Draco released a shuttering breath and let his head hit the wall. He closed his eyes. "Sorry. I forgot the silencing charm."

He was all too aware of them realizing that he did not sleep in the bed. He had pushed the wardrobe away from the wall, creating a small space behind it, and transfigurated a blanket into a small mattress.

"Why did you block the door with the dresser?" Weasley said.

Draco did not open his eyes. "Habit. After your escape, He only kept us around for the wards on the Manor. But it was open season. We only had mother's wand between the three of us."

He heard Granger's sharp intake of breath. Of course she was the first to realize what he meant.

"Do you need some Dreamless Sleep?" Potter asked.

Draco finally opened his eyes. "No, thanks. I'm so close to becoming addicted." He could not meet their eyes.

Granger pursed her lips. "Come on," she said apruptly. "I can't sleep either, and I'm going to introduce you to late night television."

He gave her a surprised look, but accepted Potter's hand to help him get up.

"All right. What's television?"

oOo

Draco had settled down on the sofa. The television was a big, dark box. He had noticed it before, but hadn't paid much attention to it.

Granger sat down on the other side of the sofa, and pulled a blanket over her legs and feet. She threw another blanket at him, and turned on the box. Bright light turned into human people.

"It's mostly like record of a theater play. But it's not on stage, and the audience's point of view is not fixed. Movies are fictional stories, but there are also news, political discussions and documentaries." Granger said.

She did something to make the pictures and people changed in rapid succession, and finally settled on something.

"Oh, good, it's about Troy. This a documentary, which is not a fictional story, but more like a history lesson. It's made for educational purposes."

They watched the documentary for some time, until Granger said: "No dreamless sleep for you. Do you take anything else?"

Draco kept his eyes fixed on the television. "I've got spell damaged from being cruico'd too many times. There's a potion that helps, but I'm almost out of it."

Granger made a distressed sound. 

Draco could not meet her eyes. "Don't you think that's poetic justice? I got what I deserved?"

"I think you've learned compassion the hard way. You were all talk, weren't you? A petty bully, but you never realized how it would really be, when all this talk about blood purity turned into reality."

"I only realized how bad my side was because I fell down the hierarchy. It never bothered me while my family was on top."

"Or maybe you're just not cut out for torture and murder."

"I've never seen somebody die, until He moved into the Manor. The funny thing is, you can't tell muggles from wizards or mud- muggleborn from pureblood when they are being tortured. They all scream the same way, and all their blood is red. You can't tell the difference. And they die all the same."

"We're all human." Granger said.

Here was a girl he'd called mudblood for six years. Regardless, she was sitting here with him because he had a nightmare and a panic attack. 

"I owe you an apology for... everything. My whole fucking existence." Draco started. He still could not meet her eyes.

"No", she interrupted. "Actions speak louder then words. If you're truly sorry, I want to _see_ you trying to be better."

"That's probably hard to do when I'm in Azkaban, but I promise I'll try, if I ever get out."

He finally did meet her eyes. She was fixing him with this razor sharp, analytical look, probably trying to figure out if his promises were worth the breath they were spoken on.

She nodded and stood." I'm going to bed. You'll have to press this button if you want to turn the television off."

Draco nodded. "Good night, Granger. Thank you."

She tileted her head a little, watching him once more with this look that made him feel utterly defenseless, stripped down to his bones, and said: "It's Hermione. Good night, Draco."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In many stories, Ron is the sceptical, distrusting one, and Hermione is far quicker to forgive Draco. 
> 
> I wanted to write Ron as supportive, and somehow my Hermione turned out to be distrusting and hard to convince. But I think it works this way. Hermione had her very existence threatened, and she never had the opinion to "return to the fold" (not that Ron would have done that, ever!).
> 
> The breakfast scene was originally from Hermione's POV, but I wanted to limit the story to alternating POVs between Harry and Draco. Therefore, Harry was hiding in the pantry :-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Luna comes to visit

Draco woke on the sofa. This was the third time in as many days. The first night, the muggle program about archaeology had been interesting, and at some point, he had drifted off. Miraculously, the nightmares had not been back.

A few days later, he had woken from another nightmare, and had ended up watching the television again. Once again, he had drifted off, and slept almost without nightmares.

He was not sure if it was the sofa or the television, or both. But it made him feel safer. Whenever he woke up, gasping for breath, a scream in his throat, he went down to the living room.

Down here, the nightmares could not get him so badly. He always remembered quickly enough where he was.

Potter's house.  
_Save._  
Potter had come back to pull him out of the fire.  
_He was save._  
Potter killed _Him_.  
_He was save._

He cast a quick Tempus, and made his way to the kitchen where he found the Golden Trio, discussing their plans for the day over breakfast.

"Which room do you want to tackle next, mate?" asked Weasley.

"I thought about looking into the wards." Potter said between bites. "Kreacher said I have to do a ritual to truly become the master of the wards."

"You need to get recognized by the Heart of the House!" Granger said. "I've read about them, but I've never seen one before!"

"It's probably buried deep beneath the cellar." Draco ventured. He shrank back a little as all three of them turned their attention to him, but took a place next to Granger and continued: "The Heart of the House is the touchstone of the wards. It needs to be tuned to your magical signature."

"Do you know the necessary spells? Did the Blacks use _Domum Fiedelem_ or _Arce Tutum_? Or _Protegat domus haec_?" Granger asked. "We could start the preparations."

Draco eyed Granger warily. She had given his wand back the day she had disarmed him, and she seemed willing to tolerate him living here. But her interrogation a few days ago had left him feeling gutted, too exposed and open. He was not sure if he could stand to work next to her, having her analyse his every movement with an advertent, calculating gaze.

But she had been really nice after his nightmare... and he had promised to make an effort.

"I have a general idea, but I need to look up the exact wording and one of the spells. It's probably going to take a day or two", he said. "Talking about spells: I've meant to ask how you've gotten the television to work here? Isn't it running on electi-something?"

Granger smiled. "Electricity. Yes, it is, but I..." She launched into a detailed explanation of how she created some kind of protective, magic-void bubble around the thing, and changed the power source.

It was utterly fascinating. He never heard of someone using runes this way. "But Wydstans theorem! How did you..."

"Look, it's about changing the variable here and here..." Granger started to draw glowing runes on the kitchen table. Draco leaned forward in interest, barley noticing how Weasley snatched his plate out of the way.

He pointed his own wand at a column of runes. "Why did you use this one? The traditional approach is..."

"Utterly useless! The power source needs to be stable. Come on, it's easier to show you!"

Granger grabbed his wrist and tugged him into the living room. Draco followed suit. He barely heard Potter say: "Oh great, there're two of them now!"

oOo

Harry watched in amusement as Hermione dragged Malfoy out of the kitchen.

Ron shrugged: "Better him then me. If he understands even half of it, she's going to be really happy. I try, but I suck at ancient runes."

"Yes, me too."

Ron finished his bread roll. "If Mione and Malfoy are going to research the ritual for the wards, we'll have time to start something else."

"How about the Dining Room? I only noticed when we were in there with Malfoy's solicitor, but it's the only room on the ground floor we haven't done."

"Probably because we always eat in the kitchen anyway." Ron said.

They set to get to work, and had made quite progress after a few hours. They were just having a small break when the doorbell chimed.

"I'll get it, Kreacher!" Harry yelled and sprinted to the door. Standing on his doorstep was Luna Lovegood.

"Luna! It's great to see you, how are you?"

She smiled. "It's good to see you, too, Harry. I’m fine."

He was always happy to see Luna. She looked good, dressed in a white and baby blue, airy dress which gave her the impression of flowing in her own little cloud. Her earrings were golden little stars, twinkling softly with their own light.

Harry gladly hugged her. "Come in! Do you want some tea? Lunch should be ready soon, if you're hungry."

"That would be nice."

  
oOo

The others were already in the kitchen when Harry and Luna walked in. Luna returned Hermione’s and Ron’s greetings, but she headed straight for Draco, who watched her warily.

"Hello, Draco. You look better now. The Wrackspurts are gone, aren't they?"

"L-Luna." Malfoy stuttered. He seemed too stunned to move, and stood utterly motionless as Luna hugged him. She let go after a short while, and smiled.

They took their seats and started to eat. After a moment, Harry asked: "How is the rebuilding going, Luna?"

"Oh, very good. Daddy and I decided to add some new rooms to the house. It's nearly finished."

"Have you found something new to occupy your time until November?" Hermione asked. "You talk about traveling to Iceland, didn't you?"

"Yes, but we're postponed it until summer. It's said to be easier to observe the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks during their mating season. Right now, I'm helping the Aurors to identify missing people."

"Really?" Ron mumbled around his potatos.

"There were quite a lot prisoners at Malfoy Manor. Wizards and Muggles. Dean and I are looking through files of missing people, to see if we recognize anyone. They found a lot of human remains, but it's easier to identify them if you have a genetic sample of a relative to match, in case of Muggles. It’s similar to our spells to identify family ties."

Automatically, Harry looked at Malfoy. As did Hermione and Ron. Malfoy seemed to feel their looks. He gripped his cutlery so hard, his knuckles were turning white. He stood abruptly. "Please excuse me."

oOo

After lunch, they settled in the living room to talk more. As much as Harry enjoyed the renovation, it felt good to catch up with a friend.

“Are you coming back to school, Harry?” Luna asked. Hogwarts was still being rebuilt, and the school year would start two months later, in November.

“I think so,” he answered. “Hermione is going, and I could use a year to figure out what I want to do.”

“What about you, Ron?” Luna asked.

Ron shook his head. “I’m starting Auror training in January. I don’t need another year of school, and I'm helping George until then."

Luna looked into the direction of the hallway. "Do you know what Draco is going to do?"

Hermione shook her head. "He's absolutely convinced he's going to end up in Azkaban. We actually talked with Kingsley about his case, and I introduced him to the Muggle concept of community service."

"Our legal system only knows time in Azkaban or house arrest as penalty. Or snapping someone's wand." Ron said. "But the muggles have so many other ideas. Strategically speaking, it's a lot smarter to invest in the rehabilitation of small fish like Malfoy. He's regretting his choices, I don't think he'll ever follow another Dark Lord."

Hermione nodded emphatically. "We should not put teenagers in Azkaban when they have a chance to do better. They need to unlearn their prejudices, and get introduced to muggle culture. Maybe it would help to allay their fears. They still fear muggles would start another wave of witch-hunting. In fact, we need to expose pureblood children to muggle culture and muggleborn children to the wizarding world much sooner. Eleven years old is too late. If we get children together in a primary school or some kind of summer camps, they could form friendships before they are sorted. It would force Hogwarts to offer some kind of recreation activities and spaces for inter-house friendships. And this would change the whole dynamic of the student body in Hogwarts."

Luna smiled. "It would have been nice to have friends before fifth year. I agree with your ideas about exposure to muggle culture. I also know something about them because my parents were curious about muggles. They loved to make anthropology trips with me when I was younger."

"You've already made plans to change the legal and educational system of wizarding Britain?" Harry asked. He knew there were several ideas Hermione had, and he knew she was prepared to use her "war-hero" status to make some changes. He'd even promised to help her. But she had been home for barley a week!

"She's got several plans." Ron bragged. "Mione is going to be the youngest Minister of Magic."

It was something Harry was very sure about, too.

"Since when are you interested in our legal system?" he asked Ron.

Ron shrugged. "It's on the book list for Auror training. And once I got started, it turned out to be pretty interesting."

Hermione turned such a beaming smiled at him, Harry thought she might have started to snog Ron, had the two of them been alone. But then she returned to the topic at hand: "I don't know if Draco would want to go back to Hogwarts. He's depressed and drowning in guilt. If the trial goes well, we have to introduce him to the idea of seeing a therapist."

Harry was nervous about his first meeting with the therapist. He could not imagine Draco Malfoy agreeing to see one. But Malfoy undoubtedly needed help. He'd found him sleeping on the sofa in the living room several times now, a clear indicator of his nightmares. Not that Harry did not have some nightmares, but not three days in a row. And he always woke to Ron and Hermione next to him, their familiar breathing grounding him.

"I'll have to talk to him." Luna said.

"He's probably in his room. Third one to the right." Harry said.

oOo

Draco was hiding. Luna did not seemed to hold a grudge against him, but he could not forget how she had been looked in the cellar, pale and afraid, but still kind.

She had tried to talk to him, but he had brushed her off, too afraid to been seen talking to a prisoner.  
A knock on the door brought him back to the present.

"Draco? May I come in?"

Of course she had to check up on him. It only she would not be so nice, so friendly, acting like they actually were friends, like his parents had never locked her up in their basement.

She opened the door, and silently crossed the room to sit down next to him. “Are you alright, Draco? I’m sorry if I woke bad memories.”

“I don’t know how you can stand talking to me”, he whispered.

Luna put her hand on his cheek, gently guiding his face up so he would meet her eyes. “You were not responsible for my kidnapping, and you did not decide to keep me prisoner. You looked always miserable when I saw you. Don’t think I don’t know about the warming charms and the food. You did your best in terrible circumstances, so why would I not be talking to you?”

To his horror, Draco started to cry. Luna simply held him, offering comfort and forgiveness.

After a moment, Draco managed to get a hold of himself. "Do you... do you think I could help, too? With what you are doing? I saw... I saw a lot of people being tortured and killed. If I could help to identify them..." His voice trailed off.

Luna nodded. "It’s not easy. But it is comforting for the families to know for sure. I’m sure the Aurors would take you up on that."

oOo

Malfoy had trailed down after Luna when she said her goodbyes to Harry, Hermione and Ron. His red-rimmed eyes spoke of an emotional conversation, and Harry nearly flung the colour sample book at him to distract him. “We’re going to finish the dining room! What was the colour you were talking about yesterday?”

Malfoy looked at Hermione, who was headed to the library. “Oh, help Harry!” she said. “I’m still looking at the books you’ve found this morning.”

He nodded and started to thumb through the book. “It’s this one.”

"What colours do you want?" Ron asked.

Harry gestured to the colour Malfoy had found. "This one for the wainscot. And cream for the rest of the walls. We're going to try something different."

"That's kind of... mud-green. Are you sure?"

"Trust me, it's going to look great!" Malfoy said. Ron look still doubtful, and Malfoy's face fell. "Not - I know you don't trust me. But the colours really work together, especially with the dark wood of the parquet and the table."

Harry smiled. "You're the expert. And I'm really curious. Let's get started!”

Malfoy hesitantly smiled back, and started to change the colour of the wainscot. They worked the rest of the afternoon in companionable silence. As they added the last finishing touches, Malfoy said: “I asked Luna if they could need my help. With identifying the … the victims.”

He did not look at Harry or Ron, but stayed intensely focused on his task. Ron turned around. He fixed Malfoy with a contemplative look. “That’s a good idea”, he finally said.

“I’m sure it would be a great help, if you think you are up to it.” Harry added.

Malfoy did not say a word, but his hunched shoulders relaxed a fraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used two ideas here that are not my own, but something I've read in another story. One thing is the "Heart of the House", which I read in Aideomai's wonderful story "Dwelling" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397646/chapters/21274226).  
> The other idea is Ron becoming interested in (and quite good at) wizarding law. That's something I've read in punsandships series "Required Courses" (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815202). I've enjoyed both authors very much. If you like post-war H/D, go take a look!
> 
> The latin spells regarding the wards come from using Google translate. I don't really speak latin, but I hope it worked halfway right.
> 
> I realized I messed up the timeline. The final battle took place in May, but I have Harry say "It's autumn" in the first chapter.   
> I decided in this AU, the battle of Hogwarts took place in July. Draco burns down Malfoy Manor in the end of September. His trial is scheduled for October, and Hogwarts will reopen on November 1th.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco goes to the Ministry, and things are not going well ...

The Aurors had been more than happy to have Malfoy help with their missing person files. Luna and Dean had already started to go through the files, trying to identify fellow prisoners. But Draco has seen much more crimes committed at the Manor.

Three days after Luna's visit, an Auror showed up in the morning to escort Malfoy to the Ministry. In retrospective, the first clue that something was wrong should have been the fact that the Auror cuffed Malfoy's hands behind his back.

(“Standard procedure.” Auror Archer had said.

“Actually, it’s not.” Ron had said. “Sorry, but I’m working my way through the Aurors Handbook. I’m on the differences in handling suspects and prisoners.”

“You’re right. But it’s standard procedure with _marked Death Eaters_.”)

But it took Harry, Ron and Hermione a few days to catch on what was wrong.

oOo

The first evening, Malfoy came back at about six. He was pale, and looked rugged, but Harry supposed that came from identifying murder victims for the whole day.

As Auror Jenkins released him and turned away, Malfoy almost stumbled down the stairs. Harry steadied him. “Come on, Ron made dinner.” Malfoy nodded and followed him. In the kitchen, he sat down and drank three glasses of water in rapid succession.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

Malfoy seemed to need a moment to focus, but then he said: “Yes, sure. It’s ... it just brought back a lot of bad memories. I recognized some people.” He looked away.

They ate a few moments later, and Malfoy excused himself right after dinner.

The next morning, a different Auror escorted him to the Ministry, but this one also insisted on cuffing his hands behind his back. As Malfoy came back home this afternoon, he looked like death warmed over. He was shaking all over, and after a long look, Hermione got him a calming draught.

The next two days were not better, but Malfoy insisted on being “fine”.

oOo

The fifth day Malfoy was going into the Ministry was the one Harry finally had an appointment with Kingsley. He knew the man was extremely busy, but he had expected to get his answers about Narcissa Malfoy via Owl. Instead, Kingsley's assistant had booked him an appointment. Harry had accompanied the Auror and Malfoy to the Ministry. The bright side was that he could stop the Auror from putting Malfoy in handcuffs.

"You don't need to cuff him if there's two of us, don't you?" he said. "I'll accompany you to the Aurors' offices, if you want me to."

The Auror said "That won't be necessary, Mr. Potter." with false cheerfulness, but he had let Malfoy go free.

They parted ways in the Auror's office. “I don’t know how long I’ll be with Kingsley, but I’ll come by here afterwards, all right?” Harry said. Malfoy nodded. Harry turned around as he was stepping into the elevator, and saw the Auror giving Malfoy a hard push which made him stumble. Harry narrowed his eyes. He had a bad feeling about the Aurors since they were all too happy to throw Malfoy in Azkaban, and this did nothing to dispel his doubts.

The other people in the elevator kept giving him futile glances. Harry had drawn a lot of astonished and admiring looks in the atrium, and the Aurors had not been much better. At least nobody there had tried to shake his hand.

It was still strange for Harry. Many of these people had be ready declare him an enemy, to follow Minister Thickness (or rather Voldemort’s) orders last year, and he felt the constant urge to grip his wand and get ready for a fight. When he finally made his way to Kingsley’s office on Level One, he wished he had brought his invisible cloak.

oOo

"Harry!" Kingsley greeted him warmly, waving him inside his spacious office. "Come in! I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Hallo, Kingsley! Thank you for meeting with me. I know you are busy." Harry said.

Kingsley smiled tiredly: "You have no idea. But I also have something important to discuss with you. I felt it would be best to meet in person. Back to you: you wanted to talk about Narcissa Malfoy?” He led Harry over to a three-piece suite, where an elegant tee service was set up on the coffee table.

Harry nodded. "You know Draco Malfoy is staying at Grimmauld Place? We picked him the evening his house burnt down. I've meant to ask you why you and the Aurors all just left. Nobody came back to check on Malfoy.”

“I’m sorry”, Kingsley said. “But you had things well under control, and I had a very busy evening. There was an urgent owl from the Department of Mysteries, and I honestly forgot to say goodbye to you and Ron.” He filled the tea cups and send one of them floating over to Harry.

"I understand. I did not expect you personally to do something about him", Harry said. "But none of the Aurors checked on him. They only turned up the next day at my house, trying to arrest him."

"They should have taken him in custody right away." Kingsley frowned.

"Then what were they waiting for?" Harry asked. "Was someone hoping to get him in trouble, letting him sleep drunk and defenceless, with all the wards torn down?"

Kingsley sighed. "I hope not, but I'm afraid that's exactly what someone was hoping for. If you and Ron had not taken him with you, we might have found his body in the morning. You did a good thing."

Harry shrugged. "It felt wrong to leave him there."

"So what about Narcissa Malfoy?" Kingsley asked.

"Is it really necessary to keep her in Azkaban? You know she saved my life, and I'm going to testify for her. I don’t think she led the Auror into a trap."

Kingsley nodded. "I learned about that after you. I don't think she would be so stupid as to attack an Auror shortly before her trial, but he wants to press charges. Besides, Lucius was a very influential person in our government for the last decade. The public is focusing on him, because Voldemort and Bellatrix are dead. Right now, I’m not going to do any favours for the Malfoys.”

Harry nodded. “You’re a politician now.” He couldn’t help to sound disappointed.

“I wish I wasn’t. But someone has to do it, and until we do the next vote, this someone is me. I have to steer this ship for at least the next half year.”

“Would it be possible for Malfoy to visit them before the trial? Just once?” Harry asked.

Kingsley rubbed a hand over his bald head. “They have a right to meet their solicitor. We could allow one meeting with all of them, and call it a permission to finalize their defence strategy.”

“Thank you, Kingsley.” Harry said. “Don’t thank me yet.” Kingsley warned. “I want something in return.”

oOo

Half an hour later, Harry was back at the Auror’s department. As he asked for Malfoy, a star-struck Auror Trainee led him to an interrogation room. He did not want to interrupt, but he needed to check on Malfoy. Something was wrong, and he needed to figure it out. As Harry opened the door of the interrogation room, he heard Malfoy’s hoarse voice: "I told you, I'm not sure. Greyback.... had her before I saw her, and there wasn't much of her face... The hair looks about right."

"That's not good enough, you little bastard!" Auror Smith answered, his hand already in motion to slap Malfoy across the face. He hit the shield Harry conjured up, instead. He recoiled, and Harry stepped fully into the room. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Mr. Potter!"

Malfoy looked like hell. He made a noise, tried to speak, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. Harry conjured a glass of water, and held it to Malfoys lips. Malfoy drank like a man close to thirsting, draining the glass in one long gulp. And another. And another one.

Harry threw Smith a dark look. "You didn't gave him water?! You let him talk for hours and didn't let him _drink_ something?!"

The smell hit him the same moment. He looked at Malfoy. His hands were cuffed behind the back of his chair, a rigid and uncomfortable position. Harry made a motion and vanished the handcuffs. Malfoy brought his arms forward, slowly. They must hurt like hell after being stuck in the same position for hours. His robes looked wet, and the smell...

"Could you please cast a cleaning spell, Potter?" Malfoy whispered, cheeks colouring with shame. Harry did, and turned on Smith: "You did not even let him use the loo?! What the FUCK is wrong with you?!"

They had an audience now. People were gathering around the open door.

"No need to shout, your little catamite is fine." someone in the back said. Auror Smith said defiantly: "I don't see why we should make Death Eater scum comfortable."

The walls started to tremble. People threw panicked looks around, and somebody shouted: “Earthquake!”

Harry nearly lost his temper, but he took a deep breath. And another one. He could not hex them all, as much as he wanted to. And it would be of absolutely no avail to bring the Ministry of Magic down around them. He hauled Malfoy up and said: "If you want him to identify more people, you'll have to come to my house. And his solicitor is going to be present all the time."

They stepped into the hallway. Once they were out of the Auror’s department, Harry asked: “Why didn’t you say something? We could have stopped this days ago!”

“Oh, should I have come whining to you because I’m a little inconvenienced while identifying people who were tortured to death in my home? Please, oh great Saviour, protect me!” Malfoy looked angry. “It’s nothing I couldn’t take.”

“That does not make it right.” Harry said. “We’re supposed to be better.”

“They make threats, withhold water and food and try to insult me. Not very creatively, I might add." Malfoy shrugged. "And it’s not like I didn’t had it coming.” 

“Do you really think you deserve to be treated this way?”

Malfoy did not answer, which was an answer all to itself. It wasn't true, but Harry figured he could not do much to change the self-hate the other boy felt. Therapy all around was sounding better and better.

"On the topic of insults: I don't know what catamite means." Harry said to change the topic.

This turned out to open a whole new can of worms, because Malfoy snorted: "Sweet summer child. It means they think I'm spreading my legs for you in exchange for protection."

Harry stopped walking: "What?! They think I'm a rapist? What the fuck is wrong with them?!" The walls started to tremble again.

Malfoy threw him an alarmed look. "Calm down!" Harry did try, and concentrated on his breathing. He closed his eyes. After a minute, he felt calmer. As he opened his eyes again, Malfoy was watching him carefully.

“You know, it's supposed to be an insult to _me_. They don't think you're a rapist, they just think you should have some fun. Humiliating an enemy? They probably think it would serve me just right. Besides, most people would want some kind of payment, in exchange for protection."

" _Fun?!_ No matter what you call it, bullying somebody into sex is rape. I'm not a rapist. And I can't stand bullies."

Harry was utterly disgusted. It's not... They are supposed to be better than this! People on their side are not supposed to be this vindictive and cruel. The whole war was about stopping people like that! Things are supposed to be better!

Some of the anger has left him, replaced by exhaustion. He adds softly: "Also, we're not enemies any more, aren’t we?"

"I've sworn off blood supremacy. And you've been nothing but kind, despite our history. I don't want to be your enemy anymore." Malfoy said quietly.

"Well, I don't want to be your enemy, either." Harry said. "Friends?"

Malfoy – Draco – smiles. “I’d like that very much. If you are sure.”

"Very sure!" Harry said.

oOo

As soon as they arrived at Grimmauld Place, Draco excused himself to take a shower. Harry wasted no time to tell the whole story to Ron. After he finished, Ron looked disgusted.

"Mate, that's just sick. No water and making him piss himself it bad enough, but they make jokes about rape?"

Harry nodded. "I thought now that the war was over, it would be better. But people are still awful to each other."

"I want to be an Auror, but if I have to work with this kind of people..." Ron said. "I hope there are more decent people in training with me."

"I'm sorry I'm not going to be there with you." Harry said in a small voice.

"Harry, you've been fighting since you've been eleven years old. I understand that you need a break. You did enough. You don't need be become an Auror. Don't let anyone guilt trip you into it." Ron said.

"Are you really fine with going alone?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I admit, it would have been nice to do it together, but maybe it's good for me to do something on my own. Not just as your sidekick."

"You're not my sidekick, you're my best friend!"

Ron laughed. "And you're mine. Don't worry, I've grown out of the jealousy a long time ago. As your best friend, I tell you that you need to take a nice, long break from fighting evil, and figure out what you want to do with your life. And go to therapy."

"I'm actually looking forward to it. I started to think about things. But first I have to keep Draco out of Azkaban."

Ron raised his eyebrows. “I’m not even surprised. But I have to admit I agree. It seems wrong to let him rot in prison.”

Harry laughed. “If our fifteen year old selves could hear us now. Can you imagine?”

Ron laughed, too. “They'd think we’re insane!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the disastrous Ministry visit, Harry and Draco talk about memories, the Cruicatus Curse, and the bathroom scene.

Draco took his time in the shower. He did not really want to face Harry. It was... he was ashamed. The Aurors had been vindictive and mean, but deep down he could not shake off the thought that they were right. After all, he was a Death Eater. Maybe the fault was in how nice the Trio treated him.

His stomach growled, reminding him he had not eaten since breakfast. He went down to the kitchen.

Harry was in the process of making dinner. He held out his hand, and a pan flew straight into it. He set it down on the stove, but looked up as if he felt Draco's incredulous stare.

"You... wandless...?

Harry shrugged. "Yes."

"What happened in the Ministry... the walls... that was really you, wasn't it?"

Harry sliced up an onion. "I nearly lost my temper. It has happened a few times, but never this badly. But I was pretty mad."

Draco stared, open mouthed, at him. “Since when are you able to …?”

Harry shrugged again, and set the onion to simmer in the pan. “Not having a part of Voldemort stuck in my soul did wonders for my magic. Wandless magic is becoming more and easier.”

"In your _soul_?!"

"Long story."

Draco nodded. He tried to wrap his head around the question just how powerful Harry really was. Casting a Patronus charm at 13 had been very impressive, but today he could have brought the Ministry down. Wandless.

His thoughts raced back to the moment Harry had stepped into the interrogation room. He had looked so very angry as he stopped Smith from hitting Draco. And the look in his face as he realized why Draco's robes were wet had been pure fury.

Draco had felt relief. Shame, of course, but also relief that someone finally knew.

Beginning this work, he had been glad to be able to do something. Even if identifying victims could not even begin to make up for his crimes. It felt too important to chicken out just because the Aurors were mean to him.

Also, there had been the nagging fear in the back of his head, telling him Harry, Hermione and Weasley would agree with them.

He had expected hostility, of course, but the creativity they had shown in trying to humiliate him without doing actual harm had surprised him. The occasional slap and shove was something he could take. It was still better than the other Death Eaters cursing and threatening him during the last year.

The taunts about whoring himself out to Harry to stay out of prison had been no surprise.

The utter disgust in Harry's face had been one. It had not been faked. Draco had strongly suspected - hoped - he would have nothing to fear in this regard, but it was nice to be sure.

And now they're friends, apparently.

"Here, you can cut the peppers." Harry interrupted his musings.

Draco complied. He washed his hands and set to work.

He was sneaking glances at the boy next to him. Friends. That was all he wanted for the first four years of their acquaintance. All the plots and schemes he cooked up to get Harry's attention. Because negative attention was better than indifference.

Why did it take fighting on the wrong side of a war to archive his goal? This was so different from his first offer of friendship. Back then, he was so sure being his friend was the best thing that could happen to Harry. Now, he was painfully aware that he had nothing to offer. If anything, associating with him might only drag Harry down. He antagonized the Aurors today, the very people he was going to work with.

oOo

They were watching a movie after dinner. Draco did not really seem to care, but he hadn't resisted when Harry had practically dragged him into the living room. Harry just wanted to take his mind off what had happened in the Ministry, and figured a movie might do the trick.

Hermione and Harry had settled on "The Princess Bride", because they did not want to spend the whole movie explaining muggle culture to Ron and Draco. Fantasy was easier, because the answer to most questions was: "Fictional world, fictional rules."

Ron had been totally mesmerized by the movie. But he loved movies in general, so it had been an easy win.

Draco had seemed interested in the story, too, but as Harry glanced at him now, he was asleep.

He had taken to sleeping on the sofa most nights, usually sneaking down when everybody else was asleep, but this was the first night he had fallen asleep while they were still in the room.

The last days at the Ministry must have been exhausting.

Harry nudged Hermione, who looked over and smiled. "Let him sleep." Ron had told her what had happened, and she had been as disgusted as he had been.

Harry turned back toward the movie. A short time later, he felt Draco turn, and snuggle against him, resting his head on Harry's arm. As the movie ended, Ron noticed, too. He looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but managed to keep quiet.

Hermione seemed to read his mind. "No jokes about stray cats", she said with a smile.

Ron pressed his hand to his mouth, but lost the fight just as Hermione cast a silencing spell on him. They watched him roar with laughter, holding his belly and nearly crying tears.

Hermione gave Ron a hand to help him up. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Ron grinned at Harry. Harry looked down at the blonde head on his arm, and sunk a little further down in the sofa. He was not tired anyway. Surly something on the telly would capture his interest.

oOo

When he woke with a gasp, he realized he was sleeping on the sofa, again. And there was something soft and warm underneath his face.

"It's all right, it was just a nightmare."

A soothing voice, and a hand stroking his back. Harry.

Draco tried to sit up, and discovered he had been sleeping squashed next to Harry on the sofa, using the other boy's chest as pillow.

_Shite_.

"Sorry... I'm sorry. I did not meant to fall asleep on you." he said, trying to scramble away from Harry.

"It's all right." Harry said. "You started to lean on me, and I didn't had the heart to wake you. I didn't think I would fall asleep."

But Draco scrambled further away, until he was pressed to the other end of the sofa. All the vile comments in the Ministry, and now he was sleeping on him, touching him all over. Harry must be disgusted.

"I'm sorry." Draco repeated.

"I told you, it's all right." Harry said. "Did you have another nightmare?"

Draco shuddered all over. "A memory."

"Hot chocolate?" Harry asked.

"If you pour Firewhiskey in."

Harry raised his eyebrows, but as they walked into the kitchen, he summoned a bottle out of the pantry.

He set to work, stirred a spoonful of maize starch into cold milk, and set it on the stove to simmer. He chopped dark chocolate in small bits, and melted them in the milk. After bringing it to a boil, he put the hot chocolate into two mugs, and added some Firewhiskey into Draco's.

It was kind of soothing, watching Harry work. It brought his thought back from the cold dining room in Malfoy Manor, from the Dar- Volde- His voice, as he said: _“So disappointing, Lucius. Perhaps you should take care to produce a spare, because I fear young Draco is not inclined to honour his position as one of my own. He can’t even cast a stable Cruicatus Curse!”_

_His Father laid in the midst of the circle of Death Eaters, panting, gasping for breath. “He’ll … he’ll learn, My Lord!”_

_“Oh, he better will. Maybe we should start now.” The Dark Lord looked over to where Darco and Narcissa were standing. The Death Eaters on both sides carefully edged away. Draco could not get his legs to cooperate, but Narcissa subtly pushed him forward. He came to stand in front of the Dark Lord, shaking with fear._

_“Your father disappointed me greatly. It pains me, but he has to be punished. Perhaps you both are going to learn a lesson.” The Dark Lord rested his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Cruico should be sufficient.”_

_NO! No, no, no! Draco stated to shake in earnest. He started to raise his wand, but his shaking hand fell down. His eyes were fixed on his father. Lucius had managed to get to his knees. His hair was falling in his face, partly hiding the words he mouthed: “Do it!”_

_“Cr-cr-cru … cruico!”The word that left Draco’s mouth had no effect. A few snorts and muttering started among the surrounding Death Eaters._

_The Dark Lord shook his head. His hand still rested heavy on Draco’s shoulder. “Draco, Draco. So disappointing. How will you serve me when you can’t even follow simple orders?”_

_Draco was not able to answer. ‘I’m going to die’ was the only thought racing through his head._

_The Dark Lord sighed. “Let me show you. Imperio!”_

_The fear and anxiety faded away. The voice in his head told him to cast “Cruico”, and it was so pleasant to obey. He cast the curse and ignored to strange sounds coming from nearby. Everything was pleasant and peaceful, he did not know why he had been afraid …_

_“Now that was better, wasn’t it?”_

_The pleasant feeling vaporized. His father was writhing on the ground, caught in the aftermath of the spell, his nerves still ablaze with agony._

_Draco nearly vomited. Bile rose in his throat, making him gag. He swallowed, too aware of the Dark Lord’s hand on his shoulder._

_“I expect better the next time I ask you to cast this.” The Dark Lord said, turning away. “Rockwood, have you made process with …”_

_Draco did not hear him anymore. He stood, frozen and terrified, until his father managed to get to his feet, and leaned heavily on him. They slowly made their way out of the Dining Room. Narcissa followed, her face impassive and carefully blank._

_“We’re going to die.” Draco thought, desperate and hopeless._

“Hey.” Harry’s voice interrupted the memory. “Are you all right?”

Draco took a nip of his chocolate.

“I thought it was an honour. To get the Mark. Even as He moved into the Manor, as I started to feel like a mouse in front of a snake, I still thought it was an honour to become one of his followers.” he said, soft-spoken and tentative.

“Then Father came home. He greeted him with a Cruciatus curse, raged about a powerful artefact Father had lost, and did not stop for over an hour. He made me cast it on Father, too. It didn’t work, but he just Imperiused me and _made_ it work.”

He stared at his mug. “He tortured people before. But I told myself they were the wrong sort, they probably deserved it, and I would get used to it in time. A good person would have known right away that there is no justification to torture people. But I needed my very own personal kick in the teeth. I only wanted out when it was my family’s life on the line.”

He finally lifted his downcast eyes from the mug to meet Harry’s gaze. But the warm green eyes held not condemnation.

“You were raised by people who loved you. They told you Voldemort would save the pureblood way of life. You had never reason to doubt them. How should you have known?”

Draco shrugged. “Hogwarts was different. I could have learned then. If I had bothered to listen to Dumbledore.”

“The Minister of Magic acted like your Father walked on water. You might have gotten the wrong impression.” Harry offered.

“Walk on water?”

“Muggle saying.” Harry answered. He cradled the mug in his hands, contemplative watching the dark liquid inside. “What I’m saying is: don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Draco had to laugh. “How can you say that?! It’s not like I did anything that could be even remotely seen as attempt at redemption. I was scared shiteless, I had my doubts, but I buried them behind a wall of Occlumency and did nothing but follow orders. I even learned to cast Cruico, after he made me torture other Death Eaters. By then, it had become easy to hate them.”

“You have to mean it.” Harry said. “That’s what Bellatrix told me, after Sirius died. I tried, but it did not work on her. I’ve managed it once, on Amycus Carrow.”

“ _You_ cast it?” That was unexpected.

"He had just spat in Professor McGonagall's face. I lost it."

_Oh. That would do it._

Draco shrugged. "He definitely deserved it. A lot of girls hid in the Room of Hidden Things because he was getting to close to them, looking for possibilities to catch them alone and helpless. If that's the worst thing you ever did, you don't have to worry."

Harry did not answer. He looked into the distance, caught up in a memory. After a moment, he met Draco's eyes.

"The worst thing I ever did was nearly killing you."

_Oh_.

_The wet tiles, the water, the agony of being ripped apart. Wide, terrified green eyes._

"I never said it before, but I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you." Harry said. He sounded devastated.

"I tried to Cruico you. You were defending yourself." Draco said.

Harry shook his head. “From what you just told me, it would not even have worked, would it?”

"I honestly don't know." Draco said. He had hated Harry, back then, but a small part of him had also desperately hoped the Chosen One would save them all.

There was hate, and there was _hate_.

"I did not know what the curse would do, and I'm deeply sorry about casting it on you. I nearly killed you. That was absolutely irresponsible." Harry said.

"I was trying to kill our Headmaster and worked on a way to let a bunch of psychopaths into a school. If you would have killed me, Dumbledore would be still alive." Draco said.

"It's a long story, but he was dying anyway. If you had died in sixth year, a lot of things would have gone different, but not necessary better." Harry said. "I'm glad you did not die."

Draco cracked a small smile. "Me too." This was getting to emotional, so he drank the last drop of his hot chocolate, and made an attempt to lighten the mood: "One day, you have to tell me this long story Maybe it explains all the strange things happing around you in school."

Harry laughed: "We were actually working on that when you burned down your house. Kingsley is still trying to figure out how to tell it without giving the next maniac ideas."

Draco shuddered. "No more megalomaniac monsters. We've had enough of that for a lifetime!"

"I drink to that." Harry said, and lifted his mug. "No more megalomaniac monsters!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with the ending, but it felt like a good point to end the chapter.
> 
> In the next chapter, Hermione's parents are back, and they are not exactly happy to see a war criminal living with their daughter...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's parents arrive at Grimmauld Place. Draco puts his foot in his mouth.

“Are you really fine with my parents coming to live here?” Hermione asked, already in the process of buttoning up her coat.

"For the fifth time, yes!” Harry said. “I’m really fine with it. They need to figure out what they want to do, and I’ve got space. Besides, you miss them. Don’t tell me you’d be fine with them staying in a hotel.”

Hermione kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Harry. We’ll take a cab back.” She gathered her handbag, gave Ron a kiss on the lips, and apperated to Heathrow.

Ron watched her go with a little frown. “I still think I should have gone with her. She acts like she is fine, but she’s nervous as hell.”

Harry shrugged. “Let her be the judge of it. Come on, help me to tackle the cellar!”

oOo

About two hours later, Draco was crossing the entrance hall when Hermione opened the door. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Hermione gave him a little smile. “We should stop meeting like this.”

Draco moved to the side as she levitated a couple of suitcases inside, followed by two people who must be her parents.

They looked completely normal. Muggel clothing, of course, but not really different from wizards and witches.

"Mum, Dad, this is Draco Malfoy. He's staying here until... he's staying a while."

Mrs. Granger stopped walking. "Malfoy? Isn't that the awful little neo Nazi who used to bully you?"

Draco flinched. He had no idea what a “neo Nazi” was, but the tone of voice was unmistakable.

Her disdainful look made his hackles rise like nothing else during the last weeks had. Old habits die hard, and the thought that a muggle looked at him like that...

"I've since graduated from bullying to joining a terrorist group." he drawled. “You know, hunting down blood traitors, killing Muggles …”

The raised eyebrows was something Granger had from her mother, he realized.

And he was an idiot.

A complete and utter idiot.

Judging by the scathing look Hermione threw him, she agreed with that sentiment. “It’s complicated, but …”

"What is a war criminal doing in your home? I was under the impression your world has prisons." Mrs. Granger interrupted her daughter.

"The important question is: why has he still a wand?" Mr. Granger asked. "I refuse to live in the same place as a criminal if he's still armed."

He moved forward, stepping next to his wife. Mrs. Granger grabbed her carry-on baggage like she might take a swing at Draco’s head if he made any sudden movements.

Mr. Granger lifted a suitcase up from the floor, looking like he had the same idea as his wife.

Hermione looked like she might not stop them, but then she sighed. “He’s harmless.”

Draco was aware that Harry and Ron had arrived behind him just in time to hear him put his foot into his mouth.

He tried to gather words to form an apology. But Harry slapped his hand over Draco's mouth, and before he had time to react, the Gryffindor manhandled him out of the room. “Excuse us!" Draco heard him called over his shoulder. And then Ron: "Sorry, he can't help being an arse, it's genetic!"

“Like I was saying…” Hermione started again, but then the voices faded as Harry dragged Draco in the sitting room. 

_“What was that?!”_ Harry said. “Are you out of your mind?! This is really, really important for Hermione! If you can’t be civil…”

“I’m welcome to join my parents in Azkaban?” Draco drawled.

“What? No! You idiot, I was going to say, if you can’t be civil, you can stay in your room.”

“That’s your solution for dealing with misbehaving pets?” Draco said, bristling at being dragged out of the room.

“Pet? I thought we’ve already established that you’re not an owl.” Harry said, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Oh, I forgot. Just your catamite.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Draco turned, very, very slowly, to see Weasley, Hermione and her parents standing in the doorway.

Harry buried his head in his hands.

Hermione looked ready to hex him. Or punch him again.

“Are you _trying_ to make this even more difficult _on purpose_?! Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you don’t start exercising these famed pureblood manners _right now_ , I’m going to …

“Why don’t I get the tea from the kitchen?” Weasley said to no one in particular, wandering nonchalantly out of the room.

Lucky bastard! Draco thought, wishing he could flee, too. But he took a deep breath, and as Hermione stopped her tirade, he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

“Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger, please let my offer my deepest apologies for my appalling behaviour. I was out of line, and there is no excuse. I understand why you would not feel save in my presence, and I hope you’ll allow me to stay here if I give up my wand to Hermione.”

He held out his wand to Hermione, who looked very surprised by this unexpected act. “Thank you.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room.” Draco said sharply, turning and practically fleeing up the stairs.

He was an idiot.

An idiot who would land himself in Azkaban because he antagonized Hermione’s muggle parents.

Parents who had just learned that their memories had been manipulated by their daughter, and that said daughter had barely survived a war.

A war she fought against people like him.

oOo  
  


There was an uncomfortable silence in the living room. Harry cleared his throat. “Mrs. and Mr. Ganger, it’s good to see you again. I hope you had a good journey?”

Mrs. Granger smiled at him. “Thank you, Harry. It was exhausting, but we’ll be fine.”

Ron returned with tea, and they all settled down on the sofas.

“We have a lot of questions”, Mr. Granger started. “But we should start tomorrow, when we are well rested. For now I just want to know: is it really save to have this boy in your house? You said he was one of these Death Eaters, a terrorist.”

Harry nodded. “He was sprouting pureblood supremacy for as long as I knew him. But once Riddle – that’s Voldemort’s real name – returned, he started to realize he was in deep shi- trouble. Right now, he’s awaiting trial, and his magic has been bound. He can only preform the most basic spells.”

“I think even your most basic spells could be used to kill somebody like us.” Mrs. Ganger said.

“If you are feeling unsafe with him here, I find a different solution.” Harry promised.

“We just don’t think he should be in prison right now.” Ron said. “It’s still full of Dementors.”

“The creatures who are like an anthropomorphised form of depression?” Mr. Granger asked.

Hermione nodded. “Yes. We work on removing them from prison. The conditions there are appalling, it’s direst than Newgate prison at its worst.”

“Malfoy is a bully, and he did a lot of bad things.” Ron said. “But he also had a chance to hand us all over to Voldemort, and didn’t take it. We saved his life twice during the battle, and it feels like we’re a little bit responsible for him now.”

Mr. Granger looked at Harry.

“I’m _not_ sleeping with him!” Harry said.

Hermione was laughing a little at him. “Harry, I’m sure that’s not what Dad wanted to know.”

Mr. Granger managed to keep a straight face. “Your personal life is your own, Harry. But I’m glad to know you’re not press-ganging someone who’s a prisoner right now into a sexual relationship.”

“Sorry”, Harry said. “It’s just … there are a lot of stupid rumours.”

Mrs. Ganger traded a look with Mr. Granger, before she looked at Hermione. “I trust you, Darling. If you think this boy deserves a chance, I’m fine with him staying here.”

The Grangers – “Call us Helena and Daniel, please” – had retired to their room until dinner. Harry and Ron had gone back to tackle the cellar, and Hermione had vanished into the library. Draco had not emerged from his room, not even for dinner.

oOo

Draco settled on the sofa. The others were most likely still awake, but the living room was mercifully empty. He did not even try pretend he would sleep in his room. It had been an awful day, and he did not want to wake up screaming.

Hermione had come up to talk to him, trying to say without sounding condescending that he had been an arse, but she would never send someone to Azkaban for being rude.

Not even if he was rude to her parents, who had had a very stressful flight and even more stressful weeks behind them.

She had ended up sounding like she was talking to a toddler who had thrown a nasty tantrum.

Draco had to swallow back a few scathing remarks. Trying to be a better person was _exhausting_.

He ended up unable to sleep, and groaned as Weasley wandered into the room.

"Scoot over, Ferret!"

"What for?" Draco asked, but he sat up and made room for Weasley. "Are you also going to yell at me for my behaviour towards Granger's parents?"

"Na, Mione and Harry did a good job, didn't they?" Weasley said. "I wanted to watch some telly. Or do you want to sleep?"

"No, it's fine."

Weasley settled on something with a lot of “car chases” and explosions. After a while, he asked: “Why did you say that to Harry? You know he would never force himself on someone.”

Draco kept his eyes fixed on the screen. "I was angry. I was going to apologize, but Potter dragged me out of the room like an unruly pet."

Weasley shrugged: "Well, you've been a bad ferret!"

Draco threw the cushion at Wesley's head. The other boy laughed, and caught it easily. "Your aim is terrible. Better stay a seeker!"

"I'm going to apologize again in the morning."

Weasley said: “To Harry or the Grangers?”

“Both. But he still didn’t had to drag me out of the room.”

“From where we stood, it sounded a lot like pre-war Malfoy was back. We really hated that guy.” Weasley said.

It was hard not to gape open-mouthed at the other boy. “We’re both the same person!” Draco said.

Weasley shook his head. “No, not really. The war has torn down everything you ever believed in, hasn’t it? People usually don’t stay the same after such life changing events.”

It was uncanny to realize how perceptive Weasley could be, if he bothered to care.

“Besides, any changes you make in your personality are bound to be improvements.”

And what a prick he still was.

“That's all I ever was to you, wasn't I?” Draco asked. “A spineless, petty bully.”

Weasley raised his eyebrows: “Malfoy, you've fancied yourself Harry's arch nemesis, but he got Voldemort to worry about. You were a nuisance at best.”

Draco was halfway sure Harry would not agree with that, but it still stung. In retrospective, it’s pretty clear that Harry had a lot worse problems than making an enemy out of Draco Malfoy.

It made Draco feel kind of stupid. He had invested a lot of time in their rivalry, but it had all come down to “Notice me! You made a mistake rejecting my friendship!”

He wondered if there was a universe where he and Harry had started out as friends.

Was that really possible? Would things have changed? Was would have happened if he had not insulted Hagrid and Weasley, and Potter had taken his hand?

They had watched something called "Science Fiction" a few days ago, and Hermione had talked about “Alternative Universes”.

Did something like that really existed? Draco pondered. Were there hundreds or thousands of Draco Malfoys, living a slightly different life? Was there a universe where he wasn’t a coward, where he’d done something good?

Maybe a Draco who rescued Luna? Or one who hadn’t become a Death Eater in the first place, one who dragged his parents kicking and screaming to the light side?

His musings were disrupted by Weasley, who asked suddenly: “How did you manage to burn down the Manor without a wand?”

“One of the house elves did it. She was quite happy to do it.” Draco said.

Weasley stifled a laugh, and asked: “Are they allowed to do something big like this without your parents’ approval? They are usually bound to the head of the family, aren’t they?”

Trust this new, perceptive Weasley to notice any inconsistences in his story. Draco kept his gaze fixed on the telly.

“They started to torture them”, he said, his voice barely audible. “They can heal a lot damage, they are able to survive a lot, but not everything. The Dark … He did really bad things, and he killed one of them. Afterwards, I tried to give them clothing.”

He was caught up in memories, and didn’t notice Weasley sitting up straighter, his attention now fully focused on him.

“It didn’t worked, because my father was head of the family. It had to come from him. So I told him to let them go.”

_“We are trapped here! We are trapped because you followed a madman! You don’t need to trap them, too. It’s too late for us, but you could at least save the elves!”_

_“Draco, I’m sure we find some way to rise back into….”_

_“Do you think I care?!” he screamed. “We’re going to die! He’s going to kill us sooner or later!” “Draco!” Narcissa tried lay a calming hand on his shoulder, but he recoiled from her touch._

_“He’s a monster! You brought him here, and he’s doing nothing but killing people!”_

_His father slapped him. “Draco! Get a hold of yourself! No one can ever hear you talking this nonsense!”_

“Did it work?” Weasley asked. “Harry said he was fuming back when he tricked him into freeing Dobby.”

“He agreed to let half of them go. They choose their children. After everything was over, I made an unbreakable vow with Dibby. I promised to free the rest of her family as soon as I inherit.. She and her family have gone to the Dowager house, together with everything of our belongings I wanted to save. Afterwards, she burned everything down.”

It was hard to remember the unrestrained joy on Dibby’s face as she set everything ablaze. He had started drinking right away.

“She is sure my father is going to get the Kiss. It would count as his death, and I would inherit.”

He was unable to looking at Weasley’s astonished face. Was it so hard to believe that he didn’t want to see his family’s elves tortured to death?! Was it so hard to believe that he had tried to do something good, for once?!

Weasley was silent for some time. Then he said, with a gentleness Draco was unaccustomed to hear from him: “That was a good thing to do.”

It was kind of strange that Weasley’s approval should mean anything to Draco, but right now, it did. Maybe he was not such a lost cause. Maybe he hadn’t fucked up his life beyond repair.

Maybe he could even overcome his ingrained disdain of muggles and be civil to Hermione’s parents.

Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, but this chapter was hard to write. My muse jumped ahead to later chapters, and tried to come up with some kind of crime plot. I'm curious how these ideas are going to work out...


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An apology, a discussion about war and education, and Ginny.

The next morning found Draco standing at the top of the stairs, holding the banister in a tight grip.

He could do this.

He had woken up at dawn, gone upstairs to shower and get dressed, and now he needed to get down again for breakfast. He would walk into the kitchen, apologize to Hermione's parents, and keep his mouth shut afterwards, so he wouldn't fuck up again.

It was stupid, but he had felt safe here. Harry, Hermione and even Weasley had been so nice and forgiving, he’d almost forgotten what he was. Had almost forgotten people looking at him with disdain and disgust was no more than he deserved.

He finally made it into the kitchen, where Hermione and her parents were already seated at the table. Weasley was making French toast at the stove, and Harry stood beside him, distributing the finished pieces.

"Morning!" Weasley said. "Cinnamon or chocolate, Ferret?"

But Draco ignored him, his eyes fixed on the two Muggles who watched his approach with wary gazes.

"Good morning, Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger." he said. "Please allow me to apologize again for my behaviour yesterday. It won't happen again."

They treaded a look. Mrs. Granger said: "Apology accepted, Mr. Malfoy."

"We have not been very friendly, either." Mr. Granger added. "We've got a few difficult weeks behind us, but that’s no excuse."

Draco took a seat. "I'm still sorry. I'm trying to unlearn the supremacist ideology I have been raised with. I had people saying far worse things about me the whole last week, so I don't know why this set me off."

It was a far too personal and open thing to say, but he had a feeling that showing his belly and being vulnerable would be the only way to win their approval. With a daughter like Hermione, they _had_ to be bleeding-heart Gryffindors, too.

"These other people were wizards, weren't they?" Mrs. Granger asked. "We are non-magical. You most likely have been taught we're barely more than animals, haven't you?"

“I... I guess so. I have been taught you would kill us all, given the chance."

"Humans react with curiosity or fear to unknown things. The wizarding approach seems to be fear, more often than not." Mrs. Granger said.

"I wondered about that terrorist's goal." Mr. Granger said, changing the topic. "Riddle? What was he trying to achieve?"

“Killing everyone who opposed him.” Harry said. “Afterwards, ruling the wizarding world? I don’t know." He took a seat next to Draco and gave him a plate.

"Yes, but your population his how big? About 30.000 people? That's a medium-sized city." Mrs. Granger said. "How would he have conquered us? Britain has a population of 58 million people."

"There are spells for crowd control." Weasley said, sitting down next to Harry. "Aurors use them to subdue a mass panic. But I don't know if they work long-term?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. It's a spell that requires a great deal of power. Aurors cast them together, not alone. The strain on the casters magical core would be severely."

"Maybe they wanted to Imperius people like the Prime Minister?" Harry said, looking at Draco.

Draco shrugged and swallowed the last piece of his Fench toast. "I wouldn't know."

"Had they been able to identify non-magical political and military leaders? Or even find the right Government institutions?" Mr. Granger asked. He poured himself another cup of tea.

"No." Hermione said. "90 percent of wizards are so ignorant about anything muggle, they stand out like a sore thumb. The idea that they would have figured out how to control the whole government of Britain is ridiculous."

"So they would have resorted to pure terror. We would have sent our military to deal with them, sooner or later." Mrs. Granger said.

"Shield charms hold against pistols." Draco said. "I don't think they could have done much."

"Does it hold against gas?" Mr. Granger said.

"No." said Weasley and Hermione in unison. She smiled at him.

"Auror handbook." he grinned. "You can modify a shield charm against gas, but you need to know which one you’re dealing with. If you block out everything, you'll end up in a protective bubble with a limited supply of oxygen. Sooner or later, you’d have to let fresh air in, or pass out."

“What about bombs?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“The strength of a shield charm depends on the strength of the caster. Most wizards would not be able to block a bomb, even if they knew it was coming.” Hermione said.

"Sheer numbers would work in our favour. We would only need to figure out how to block apparition. Trap them, and wait until their strength runs out.” Mr. Granger said.

Draco couldn’t quite figure out how the Grangers could treat this as an intellectual pastime, instead of quiver with terror at the thought of a full blown out war against wizards. Was this typical for Muggles?

“He planned to make Inferi. Maybe that was his plan. Kill all muggles or turn them into Inferi, too.” He said.

“Zombies, even if it’s not an accurate comparison.” Hermione said in answer to a questioning look from her mother.

“That’s a horrifying thought, but there has to be a way to kill them.” Mr. Granger said.

“There is. If he would have turned on Muggles, we would have started to work with them. We would have found a way to turn their technic and sheer numbers against him. And it’s not like other countries of the ICW – that’s the International Confederation of Wizards – would have sat back and watched him break the Statue of Secrecy on such a large scale.” Weasley said.

“He didn’t exactly came back sane. I doubted he really planned this far.” Harry said.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Mrs. Granger said. “I’m sorry, we got a bit carried away. It’s just very fascinating, from a scientific point of view, that an entire civil war could happen here in Britain and most of the population never noticed.”

Mr. Granger nodded: “It still feels unreal, but that might be our memories. It’s still a bit surreal to talk about Magic.”

Hermione winced. Her mother took her hand. “Darling, I just want to understand what made you so afraid, so that you took such drastic measures.”

Hermione had a resolute expression on her face. “I acquired a pensive. It’s not going to work for you the usual way, but I’ve managed to master the spell they use in court rooms. It’s going to project the memory into the room, like a three dimensional television picture. Ron has a meeting with Dr. Kumar this morning. I’d like him and Harry be with us, so we’ll start this afternoon, if it’s all right with you?”

Her mother laid her arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “Only if you are ready. We want to understand, but only if you can bear to show us.”

Hermione nods briefly. “Maybe I need to face my demons.”

oOo

Harry was not sure if Hermione’s idea with a pensive was a good one. It would probably work very well to let her parents see what had happened, but did they really wanted to relieve all these awful memories?

He was sure he could not let Hermione and Ron do it on their own, but he did not really wanted to watch the battle and all that happened before. It had been enough to live through it once.

He was working in the living room, trying to keep busy until Ron got back. They had finished the room itself, but now he was trying to decide which furniture he really wanted to keep. The sofas were actually very nice, since Kreacher fixed the padding, but the colour was awful. He was going to change them as soon as he found the spell.

The coffee table was too small and too dark for his liking. The dresser and the shelves along the wall were made of the same, dark wood.  
“Brighter, brighter...” He said, skipping through the pages of the “Complete Compendium of Household Spells” to find the colour changing spell for wood, and the one for fabric.

“Do you want help?” said a voice behind him, and he whirled around, a wordless “Expelliarmus” aimed at Draco, who had turned up behind him. As Draco did not carried a wand at the moment, the force of the spell knocked him to the floor. He was looking at Harry with wide eyes.

“Sorry”, Harry said, offering him a hand up. “I’m a little jumpy.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice.”

Harry laughed. “Do you really want to help? I’m looking for colour changing spells. I like most of the furniture in here, but it’s so dark.”

Draco took the book. “I know what you need, wait a moment.” He sat down on one of the sofas, just as the Fireplace flashed to life.

“Harry? Can I come through?” a female voice called out.

“Ginny! Sure.” Harry said happily.

He smiled as Ginny stepped though the Floo. They hadn’t seen each other for nearly a month, and she looked good. At Fred’s funeral, the grief had seemed to weigh her down, dulling every emotion she had shown to him. But now, the spark in her eyes was back.

“You look great, Ginny! Are you back for good?” he asked, and stepped into her embrace.

“They’re offering me a contract! Youngest player in the league!” she said, beaming. Harry smiled back. “I’m so proud of you, Ginny. You deserve it!”

He was so happy that her dream would come true. He was leaning in for a kiss, when she frowned at something over his shoulder and said: "Harry, there's a ferret on your sofa! Shouldn't he be in his cage?"

He turned around to see Draco raise up. “Ginevra. Congratulations on getting a place in the league. It’s a stellar accomplishment.” He turned his gaze at Harry, and said: “I marked the page with the spell you need. Please excuse me.”

Harry nodded, and watched Draco walk out.

Ginny was watching Draco too, still frowning. "That was odd. No snide remark? A civil greeting? An actual compliment? What did you do with Malfoy? It's like his personality did a 180-degree turn!"

“Hermione says it’s PTBS." Harry said. "And the fact that he had to a bunch of psychopaths living in his house for two years."

"He _was_ one of the psychopaths!" Ginny said.

Harry shrugged. "He wasn’t very good at it, wasn’t he? He probably never saw somebody die before Dumbledore. The Death Eaters tortured and killed people all the time. That must have been traumatic."

"Traumatic?! The poor little Death Eater couldn’t take the reality of war? What about us? We got tortured on a regular basis. After his buddies took over our school." Ginny said.

“You’re right. It’s just… he changed.” Harry said carefully. He didn’t really know how to explain the last weeks to Ginny. It felt like his house had become a nice little bubble of peace, removed from the real world. A bubble in which Draco Malfoy could be his friend, instead of an enemy.

“We all did.” Ginny said.

They were both thinking of Fred, and of George, who was walking around like a ghost. A muggle proverb, Harry thought, actual ghosts were more alive than George right now.

Ginny recovered first. She leaned into his embrace, and said: “I’m sorry I left just like that after Fred’s funeral. I needed something to take off my mind of grieving, and I needed to get out of the Burrow. The offer of the team was just the right thing. It was an escape, in a way, but I’m sorry I didn’t stood by your side.”

Harry smiled at her. “It’s all right. I understand. Everyone deals with grief in their own way, and I’m glad you’ve found a way for yourself. Besides, this is your chance to fulfil your big dream. You would be stupid not to seize it with both hands.”

She leaned in for a kiss, and Harry had the feeling he would be ready to take on the pensive, and all the memories, if Ginny would stay by his side.

oOo

Lunch was a little tense. Draco’s apology at breakfast had led to a truce between him and Helena and Daniel, but Ginny was still watching him with a little frown. Hermione’s parents were asking everyone at the table questions about the wizarding world. Hermione and Harry answered as best as they could, but many questions were better answered by the pureblood fraction at the table: Draco and Ginny.

“If you go to Hogwarts at eleven, where do you go to primary school?” Helena asked.

“I had tutors at home.” Draco said. “Some lessons I had with my friends. Etiquette, ballroom dancing, riding lessons.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows: “The ones of us who are not spoiled toffs are usually taught by our parents, or in really small classes. We had a teacher who had pupils flooing in from all over the county.”

“Is there a curriculum which needs to be followed? How do you make sure the pupils are all on the same page when they start Hogwarts?” Daniel asked.

“They aren’t.” Draco said. “First year was mostly revision for me, because I had been able to do practical magic with my mother’s wand at home.”

“Unlike _some_ people, my parents took the law against underage magic seriously.” Ginny said. “I knew a lot of the theory, but I had not much practical experience.”

Hermione nodded. “They use the first year at Hogwarts to get us all on the same page. Most children have their magical core settle between ages 9 and 11. They are only able to use a wand after the core has stabilized.”

Helena frowned. “So it doesn’t really matter if some children get practical experience sooner than others? It still seems like an unfair advantage.”

“It most likely is.” Ginny said.

“A prep class for children who grew up without magic would have been really helpful.” Harry said. “We were lucky to become friends with Ron, but it was still like moving in a different country, and trying to fit in into a whole new culture.”

Hermione nodded: “That’s what I’ve been saying for years! There are so many things that could be done better!”

“You’re not muggle born.” Draco said to Harry.

“I still didn’t knew I was a wizard until the first Hogwarts letter. Until Hagrid explained everything to me, I grew up thinking my parents had died in a car crash.”

“What?!” Draco’s look of outrage was almost funny. “But you’re Harry Potter! How could you not know?!”

“His relatives are awful people.” Ginny said. “If they would not loath each other’s mere existence, they would probably get on like a house on fire with your parents. Two sides of a coin, and all that.”

Harry laughed: “That would actually be funny. My aunt’s brain would probably explode when she tried to figure out if being a toff outweighs being a wizard.”

“There seems to be some bad blood between you two?” Daniel asked carefully.

Ginny snorted. “That’s the understatement of the century!”

“The Weasleys are as pureblood as the Malfoys, but not rich. Arthur is very outspoken about the rights of muggleborns or muggles. He and Draco’s father had a feud, you could call it, for several years.” Hermione said.

“The brawl in the bookshop!” Daniel said. “I remember! Unpleasant man.”

“And then there’s the little fact that Lucius Malfoy tried to kill me when I was eleven.” Ginny said.

Helena raised her eyebrows. “He tried to kill a little child?”

“To be precise, he used that brawl to slip me a diary with a piece of Tom Riddle’s –that’s Voldemort – soul. That thing possessed me, and used me to open the Chamber of Secrets, unleashing a Basilisk at Hogwarts who targeted muggleborns. It was pure luck his victims were petrified instead of killed. This part of Riddle lived inside my head for nearly a year, drained my life force, and nearly turned me into a murderer.”

She took a deep breath. “Harry and Ron rescued me, but Harry nearly died. He was only twelve years old, and he had to battle a Basilisk because Malfoy wanted to play political games with the lives of children.”

Her look at Draco was hard and unyielding. “I hope he rots in Azkaban for the rest of his life!”

Draco nodded, his mouth a sharp line. “I guess that’s fair. I already told your father, if it’s any consolation, _He_ was very, very cross with Father because of that. Tortured him for hours.”

Harry was barley aware of Helena and Daniel whispering a question to Hermione, because Ginny’s expression did not mellowed. "Show me."

Draco looked at Hermione: "You said you’ve got a pensive?"

"Yes.” Hermione said startled. “But Ginny, are you sure?”

This conversation slipped rapidly out of control. Harry was not sure what Ginny was doing, but this seemed like a bad idea: “Gin, I've seen Voldemort torture people, and it's... it's not easy to stomach. Especially if you can't do anything."

"Do you really think I would want to _help_ Lucius Malfoy?" Ginny asked. She wore a familiar, determined expression. He knew she would not change her mind.

"I think you're going to figure out that thinking about torturing somebody and seeing it done are two very different things." Harry said.

“Harry, Malfoy was the reason I had Riddle _living inside my head_ for nearly a year. You of all people should know how that felt. I’m very sure seeing Malfoy getting tortured is going to help me settle a few nightmares.”

Harry was not so sure about it, but asked Kreacher to bring the pensive into the library. Hermione and her parents stayed in the kitchen, deeply into a discussion about the events of this particular year at Hogwarts.

oOo

Draco was not so sure how that had happened, but he carefully extracted the memory into the pensive, which had been settled onto the writing desk. Luckily, this was a spell he was still allowed to use. He stepped back from the pensive.

Harry was standing next to Weasley – girl Weasley- Ginevra. He seemed on the verge of talking her out of this idea, but decided to keep quiet. Ginevra ventured in, a determined expression on her face. But thinking back at the battle, the way she had been ready to attack Vol- Him, she always seemed to face her fears head-on.

Harry stepped up next to Draco. “Thanks,” he said softly. “This can’t be easy for you.”

Draco shrugged. “She’s right. My father _did_ something horrible to her, and planned to kill children. If that’s the closure she needs …”

They settled down on the sofa. After a while, Draco could not take the silence anymore. “You hate him, too, don’t you?”

Harry turned around to him. “He tried to kill me the first time after I tricked him into freeing Dobby. I was _twelve_. At Voldemort’s rebirth, he had no problem standing by as I was tortured and lined up to die. And the night in the Ministry … he was ready to kill me and all of my friends. What kind of person tries to kill children? Especially if he has a child exactly the same age?”

Draco hugged his knees. These were questions he had asked himself, but he had no answers. His father was not a good person. This insight hurt. All his life, he had put his father on a pedestal, tried to be like him, tried to make him proud, but that made the fall so much worse.

Harry’s voice dragged him out of his musings. “His only redeeming quality is that he genuinely loves you.”

“How do you know that?” Draco asked. Harry sounded so sure, but Draco himself was not.

“I saw him through Voldemort’s eyes during the battle. He was desperate to find you. I think the cause didn’t matter to him anymore. Just your survival.”

Draco wanted to say something, but in this moment, Ginevra came out of the pensive, looking to be on the verge of throwing up. Harry rushed to her side to help her to the sofa.

Watching a memory did never take as much time as the memory itself, and she had only needed about twenty minutes. She gulped and took a deep breath, looking over to Draco. "That was awful. I hate your father, I really hate him, but I felt sorry for him. I wanted it to be over. That was... unexpected."

Draco shrugged. "You’re a good person. Is it so surprising you don't enjoy seeing someone suffer? Even if it was your worst enemy?"

"Oh, that was Tom. I really don't understand what happened to his nose!" she said offhandedly, in an apparent try to change the topic. "He was such a good looking boy, but he managed to make his outward appearance fit his ugly soul."

"Tom?" Draco asked confused.

"Tom Riddle. It's his name." Harry explained. "He hated it, of course. Being named after his muggle father... No wonder he invented a new name for himself."

“Not that Voldemort was much better!” Ginevra commented. She took the glass of water Harry offered her, and let him settle behind her on the sofa.

But Draco was still stuck on “muggle father”. "Muggle? He was a half-blood?"

"Talk about hypocrisy, right?" Harry said. "Orphaned half-blood boys. We were alike in a lot of ways..."

Ginevra’s eyes flashed: "You are _nothing_ like him!"

"I did some things I’m not proud of." Harry said. “I sometimes wonder if the potential is there.” His gaze settled on Draco’s chest.

Draco raised his eyebrow. "The potential to become the next Dark Lord? You’re probably powerful enough, but unless you feel a sadistic pleasure from torturing people, you're nothing like him. He enjoyed it. He did it, again and again, just for fun. All you seem to do is saving people. Besides, we've had this discussion. I cast a Cruciatus on you. You were right to defend yourself."

"Would it have worked?" Harry wondered. "I know he made you cast it on Death Eaters. But you looked terrified."

"You saw that?" Draco's eyes were wide. He shook his head. "The Carrows made us cast it on other students. It was weak, but it worked."

"You told a first year to scream. You put no real power behind it. He was fine." Ginevra said. "After that, we figured out you were not really putting in an effort."

"But I didn't refuse. I know how it felt, but I still tried to cast it." Draco said. He was still ashamed. He had cursed other students, and sometimes he had hurt them.

"Because your self-preservation is stronger than your morals. Remember what happened to Goyle?" Ginevra cut in.

"What did happen to him?" Harry asked.

"He refused to cruico a little Hufflepuff. Said she looked a lot like his little cousin. But even before that, he rather pretended he could not cast it properly. The Carrows thought he was stupid anyway." Draco said.

Ginevra continued: "They used the Cruicatus curse on him after dinner, for the whole school to see. We had spirited the little Hufflepuff away into the Room of Requirement, but we didn't though they would hurt Goyle. Turned out we were wrong."

"He stopped talking for almost four months." Draco said. “Do you... do you have some way to find out what happened to Greg? He’s not … he wasn’t into it, not like Vince, and not like me, in the beginning. I wanted to be a Death Eater, before I knew what it really meant. Greg just did whatever he was told to do. He followed his father, he followed me, and he followed Vince. But he didn’t like to torture people. If you really think I deserve a second chance, he should get one, too.”

Ginevra watched him carefully. She seemed to have found what she had been looking for, because she leaned back against Harry, and said: “Well, you should have known you can’t keep ferrets in solitary, Harry. You might as well start a collection.”

To his own surprise, Draco grinned at her: “You are going to call me Ferret for the rest of my life, aren’t you?”

She grinned back unapologetically: “Get used to it, Ferret boy.”

Harry was laughing at him. Draco shook his head. “You would get on like a house on fire with Pansy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's parents turned out a little different then I imagined them to be. Both very intelligent, analytical, blunt, and ruthless. In my personal head-canon, they are not normal dentists, but some highly specialized orthodontists or oral surgeons.  
> (For some reason, I've kept thinking about Rodney McKay from Stargate Atlantis, when I wrote them. The whole show is practically him learning to realate to other humans, and not being an ..., even if he is the smartest person in the room. Personal growth while saving two galaxies... I should to start a rewatch...). 
> 
> Ginny was difficult to write, but I as much as I like H/D, I also enjoy her and Harry getting a Happy End. I like Ginny, plain and simple. As you can see, I have thoughts about Lucius Malfoy. He was actually a surprise, because in the end, the love for his family was more important then anything else. He's still an awful person, but I liked that Rowling didn't wrote him as an absolut fanatic.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions, and another suprise. As it turns out, Ginny has a saving people thing, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short chapter. The last one was much longer then usual, and now I have to wrangle some plot points into submission.

Draco had excused himself, but Harry and Ginny remained on the sofa in the library. It was nice to cuddle, after being separated for a month.

Ginny talked about the training camp, and Harry could feel her excitement. She was practically vibrant with joy. After a while, she leaned back against his chest, and asked: "The git really changed, didn't he?"

Harry nodded. "I think the reality of war forced him to change. He's trying." He thought a moment about how to ask a question he was pondering, and settled for: “You were nice to him. What changed?”

He felt her shrug. “Truth to be told, I asked to see this memory because I wanted to see his reaction. It was a spur of the moment decision, and I was sure he would refuse. But he surprised me.” She was quiet for a moment, and asked: “Have you seen this memory?"

"No. He told me about it, some days ago." Harry said.

"He was terrified.” Ginny said. “I have to admit, seeing Lucius Malfoy’s smug expression fall from his face, seconds before Riddle hit him with a Cruciatus... Seeing him realize that he was in deep, deep shit... That was nice. It actually felt pretty good – for about five seconds. Then he started to scream. I never... it was awful. You know how cats play with their prey? That's what Riddle was doing. Walking around him, casually talking, making a pause to hear Malfoy beg, hit him again with a curse... I couldn't really watch, and that was when I saw Malfoy – Draco. He never, in a million years expected this. He had no idea that serving Riddle would be like that, and he was absolutely terrified."

She turned her head to look at Harry. "I'm going to hate his father for the rest of my life. But if he's really willing to change, I'm going to give Malfoy a chance."

Harry leaned in to kiss her. "Thank you."

oOo

A short time later, he had joined Hermione in the living room. Ginny had wanted to look for George next, who had fled the Burrow to hide in his shop. She was not sure what she would find, but she would be back in the evening.

Hermione and Harry were trying to figure out which memories they would show her parents. Hermione had given them a short summary about the events of their school years, which had led to many, many angry questions from Helena and Daniel. In retrospect, it had been seven very, very strange years.

Naturally, Hermione had made a list. “I was going to start with the battle in the Ministry. Seeing us fight against Death Eaters, and seeing Voldemort duel Dumbledore might be enough to make them realize what kind of people we were facing.”

“You want to shock them?” Harry asked, taken aback.

“I’m ready to show them the worst of our year on the run, and even the battle of Hogwarts, but I’m not looking forward to it.” Hermione admitted.

The flash of the Floo interrupted her, and Ron came through. Hermione took one look at him, and asked: "Ron, are you all right? What happened?!"

Ron looked – fuming. It wasn't his usual quick temper, this was cold fury. Ron shook his head: "I just realized what he did. We talked about the war – if he wasn't already dead I'd have to kill him."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore." said Hermione. She took Ron’s hand, but he did not sat down. He gave her hand a short squeeze, and wandered around in front of the fireplace like a caged tiger.

Harry looked dumbfounded from Ron to Hermione.

“He raised you up for slaughter.” Ron said. “We talked about last year, about what we had to do to defeat him, and the pieces suddenly formed a picture.

You can't win at chess if you're afraid to lose pieces. You were his most important piece, and he had to win a war.”

Ron ran a hand through his hair. He finally sat down across from Harry, next to Hermione. He leant forward, resting his arms on his knees. “He had to have known about the Dursleys. There is no way he didn't check on you for ten years. He had to know how they were treating you.  
You never saw magic as your birth right. It was a miracle to you, an escape from the Dursleys. You never took it for granted, not like Ginny and I do. The magical world gave you your first friends, the first place to call home you since you were a baby, the first idea that life could be good, not just something you had to get through. And all this made you willing to die for this world. For us.”

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat. "How can you be so sure? Ron, you don't know this."

Ron smiled grimly: "He sacrificed himself. Remember the chess play in our first year? It's what I would have done, had I seen no other way to win. In the long run, it was the right thing to do to win the war, but I can't forgive him for setting you up for slaughter. He had no way of knowing you would survive."

Hermione nodded: “He could have done things so differently. The blood protection was important, yes. But nothing would have prevented Dumbledore from paying the Dursleys a generous amount of money, get them to move into a much bigger house, and find a nice wizarding couple to live with you in a different part of it. You could have been raised by good people.”

“But then you would have grown up with magic.” Ron said. “Hogwarts would not have been your only home.”

Harry felt himself tear up. He had suspected some of the things Ron had just laid bare on the table. Hearing other people think these things, too, made them somehow realer. It hurt to admit that Dumbledore had used him like a chess piece. He had steered away from this topic in his therapy sessions so far, but sooner or later, he would have to face it.

They were interrupted by a silver horse galloping through the wall.

“Ginny!” Harry jumped to his feet, wand in hand. The horse stopped in front of him and said with Ginny’s voice: “Harry, I need you in Diagon Alley, next to side entrance to the joke shop!”

“You’re not going alone!” Ron said, and gripped Harry’s arm. Harry nodded, and apparated them both to Ginny.

oOo

The Alley was dimly lit, and he did not see her at first. Ron had moved to stand back to back with him, looking for attackers. There was a small, hostile crowd in front of the side entrance to the joke shop.  
Behind the people, he saw a glimpse of red. “Ginny!” he whispered to Ron. They moved quietly, ready to stun the people in front of them.

“Stand back!” Ginny snarled, stunning one of the men in front of her. “Crazy bitch!” another shouted, raising his wand. Harry stunned him, and two others. Ron worked quickly to stun the others, leaving none of them standing.

“There you are!” Ginny said. She was standing in front of another person, a hysterically crying young woman.

“What happened?” Ron asked.

“I took out the trash for George when I saw these arseholes cornering her.” Ginny snarled. “They were calling her all kinds of slurs, and then one of them took her wand. They were very hostile, probably already drunk, and more than ready to hurt her.”

The other woman – girl, she had to be their age – was trying to stand. Ginny took her arm over her shoulders, and looked at Harry. “Your place?”

“We should call the Aurors,” Harry said. “Get these guys arrested.”

The other girl lifted her head. “Like they would care.” said Pansy Parkinson, her voice shaking.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy and Draco have a lot to talk.

Draco had left Harry and Ginny in the library, and had retreated to his room. Inside him, there was a strange feeling raising its head, and it took him a while to identify it as jealousy.

Ginevra.

Ginny.

Ginny and Harry.

After the war, Draco had vowed to be honest to himself. No more hiding behind others, no longer laying the blame on someone else if something went wrong, no more lying about his feelings – at least in the privacy of his own mind.

He had always wanted to be Harry’s friend. Anger at being rejected had turned into hate, but underneath is was still the hurt boy who had been denied something for the first time in his live. Most of his encounters with Harry had been a big attempt at getting noticed. At getting a rise out of the other boy.

Now that he had a chance at friendship, his subconscious got ambitious and decided to remind him that _friendship_ might not be the only thing he might want from Harry. Draco was not ready to face this particular truth right now. He shook his head and went to look for the Gryffindors. Ron must be back from his therapy session by now, and maybe he would want to play chess.

oOo

He found only Hermione in the living room, trying to reach someone via Floo.

“Is Weasley not back yet?” Draco asked.

Hermione ended the call and turned around. “Ginny send a Patronus. She had an emergency at the joke shop. Ron and Harry went to help her, and I have no idea what’s going on!”

Draco frowned. His mind started to list the few Death Eaters which were still on the run. Surly none of them would dare to execute an attack right in Diagon Alley?

He wanted to ask more questions, but the flaring of the fire interrupted him. Harry and Ron were the first to come through, and next to Ginny came someone with a very familiar face.

_"Pansy?!"_

Pansy looked up, her eyes wide. " _Draco?!_ You're alive!" She let go of Ginny and flung herself in his arms, crying and talking.

"I thought you were dead! The Manor burnt down, and you were nowhere to be found! Nobody knew anything! What happened?"

Draco hugged her back, burrowing his face in her neck. " _I_ burnt it down. I couldn't stand it any longer."

She nodded, but her eyes flickered warily over to Harry and the others. "Are you all right?"

Draco nodded. "What happened to you, Pans?"

She turned her head away, sniffed and rubbed her eyes. "A bunch of arseholes."

“What were you doing in Diagon Alley? It can’t be the best place for you, right now.” Draco said.

“You mean I can’t show my face without being cursed or hexed?” Pansy said, her voice sardonic. “Welcome in our new world, Draco. That’s how it’s going to be for the rest of our lives.”

“We should move this to the sofas.” Hermione said.

As they all settled down, Draco repeated his question. Pansy curled up against him and rolled her eyes. "I have to go to Gringotts. I know better than to show my face in broad daylight, but I thought I would be able to sneak in via the back alleys when there aren't many people on the streets. I didn't counted on being recognized by a bunch of drunk pillocks."

"Recognized?" Harry asked.

Pansy raised her eyebrows: "I tried to hand you over to the Dark Lord, Potter, remember? Did wonders for my reputation. People are going to hold this against me for the rest of my life."

"She was scared!" Draco said, and there was real pleading in his voice as he looked at Harry. He had not been in the Great Hall, but he knew Pansy had been terrified of the Dark Lord, ever since her father had come back from an audience with Him, and promptly suffered a heart attack because he had been crucio’d for not offering enough money to the cause.

"A lot of us were scared, but fought anyway. “ Ginny said. "Like Neville."

"Oh yes, the unexpected hero." Pansy said. "Who could have known _Longbottom_ had it in him?"

“Don’t you dare!” Ginny snarled. “Neville stood up to Riddle when the rest of us were still petrified.”

Draco was sure that nobody who had seen Longbottom on this day, defying Vol – _Him_ over Harry’s dead body, terrified but determined and angry, so angry; who had seen him pull Gryffindor’s sword out of the hat and kill Nagini in such swift finality, would be ever able to forget it.

But that had just been the height of Longbottom’s heroics. Draco had watched him for months, defying the Carrows, protecting students, becoming the leader of Hogwarts’ resistance. Seeing him standing up to the Dark Lord had not really come as a surprise.

Draco had wished for just an ounce of that steady courage. But courage was not in his nature.

Hermione had summoned a first aid kit, and took a seat next to Pansy. “Let me take a look at your injuries.” She said matter-of-factly.

Pansy stopped glaring at Ginny and nodded, suspicion written all over her features. “Do you know what you’re doing, Granger?”

Hermione fixed her with an exasperated look and started a diagnostic spell. Pansy wisely shut up.

"Harry, a word, please?" Draco asked.

He wandered over to the windows, putting enough distance between them and the sofas to not be overheard. Harry followed him, a curious expression on his face.

"I know I have not been on my best behaviour lately, and I'm sorry." Draco started. "My behaviour yesterday was... I apologize for insulting you."

Harry was watching him in open confusion. "You never, ever, in our whole lives apologized to me, and now I get the feeling you're doing it all the time. I'm not him, you know? I don't enjoy people grovel at my feet."

Draco let his hands slide along the window sill. The dark wood was smooth to his touch. He concentrated on the feeling beneath his hands, and said softly: "I did not really apologize, not properly. Not for everything I did to you and your friends. I’m still working up the courage to do that. What I meant right now was my behaviour yesterday. I know you don't like that word, and I wanted you rile you up."

"I'm not homophobic." Harry said. "But catamite sounds very degrading, and I can't stand people implying I'm a rapist. I absolutely do not understand why people make sexual insults like that."

"Because they think being the passive partner is degrading?" Draco said.

Harry snorted. "Only in the small minded world of homophobic idiots." He dragged a hand through his hair and came to stand next to Draco, leaning his back on the wall. "Look, you don't have to placate me all the time. As long as you don't call people the M-word anymore, and don't try to hurt someone, I don't care."

"I would have thought you enjoyed seeing me humbled." Draco said before he could stop himself. He could not really look at Harry, just glanced at the other boy from the corner of his eye.

There was something like pity in Harry's eyes. "I saw you humbled and scared through Riddle's eyes often enough. I like you better when you not terrified out of your mind."

A rueful smile tugged at Draco's lips. "I never imagined you to be such a gracious victor. I would have been a lot more vindictive in your place."

"You would not have been the victor, you would have been another disposable pawn." Harry said matter-of-factly.

"I know." Draco said. "It just took me way too long to realize."

He took a deep breath, and turned to face Harry. "I want to ask another favour of you. You've already done more than enough, but would you consider letting Pansy stay for a few days? Please? Something it not right with her, and I think she would rather not go home right now. I’m sure she’ll give up her wand, if you want to! She could stay in my room, you wouldn't have to see her at all!"

Harry nodded. "She's welcome to stay, but she doesn't have to hide. I only want her to be polite, especially to Helena and Daniel."

Draco nodded. "Of course!"

oOo

As they steped into his room, Pansy looked around carefully.

"It's not a cell." Draco said.

She turned to him, and gave him a hard shove that pushed him onto the bed.

"You arse! I believed you've died! How could you do that to me?!"

He looked up to see her crying. Carefully, Draco eased her down next to him, and hugged her.

"I'm sorry." he said. "My mother had been arrested, and I was slowly going insane in this house. I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't stand living there any longer. It was such a relief to burn it down."

"You could have talked to me!" she snarled, still crying.

Draco continued to hug her. He rested his chin on her shoulder. "Your parents made it clear that I was not welcome to talk to you. Your father returned my first letter with a howler attached."

"I'm sorry." she said. "I didn't know." She untangled herself from him and rubbed at her eyes. "What happened, Draco? You’re not yourself."

Draco leaned back. "That might be an improvement. I was a terrible person."

"No, you were not! Whatever gave you the idea?!"

He looked at his left forearm and raised his eyebrows.

"Apart from that." she huffed. "You're my friend, you were not terrible!"

"Not to you. But to so many people." He dragged a hand through his hair. "Pansy, everything we were taught was a lie, and my parents handed me over to a madman. I'm... Maybe I'm not acting like myself because I don't know who to be anymore. The very earth beneath my feet crumbled, and I'm falling and falling."

He continued dragging a hand through his hair. "I feel like the boy I was died under Vol- _His_ Cruciatus Curse. I died and I don't know what to do with myself any more. I can't go back to how I was. _I can't_."

Pansy took his hand to stop his frantic movement. "I understand. But what are you doing here? Did you just roll over, showed your belly and became the Golden Trio's pet snake? How is that going to help you figure out your life?"

"I let the Dark Lord use me as his personal whipping boy for the last year. At least the Gryffindors don't consider torture an appropriate after dinner entertainment. This is definitely an improvement." Draco replied.

"I had no idea it had been so bad for you." she whispered.

"After Harry and Co escaped from the Manor, it got really bad." he said. "As to why I’m here: after the Manor burnt down, the Aurors wanted to throw me into Azkaban. Harry argued to keep me under house arrest here. And now he’s acting like I deserve help and forgiveness. It's really, really strange."

"You call him "Harry" now. Are the rumours true then?" Pansy asked carefully.

Draco snorted. "Potter wouldn't touch me like that. He has really strong opinions about rape."

Pansy's eyebrows rose up: "It's not rape if you're willing."

Draco winced. Pansy knew him since they were toddlers. It figured that she had worked out his little secret even before he had. “He has a girlfriend. And even if that were not the case, this ship has sailed years ago. I'm very sure he's the type to only sleep with people he likes.”

Pansy fixed him with an exasperated look. “But he likes you now. You said so. It would do wonders for your reputation.”

Draco snorted. “What, being the Boy-who-lived's fuck-toy?”

Pansy slapped his arm. “No, being his _boyfriend_.”

This was … Draco had not even thought about something like that. He’d always knew he would be expected to continue the family line. He would probably come to an _agreement_ with his future wife. But having an actual boyfriend… This was a terrifying idea. And it would never happen.

“That's a terrible idea.” he said. “He would never forgive anyone deceiving him in a relationship. Starting a relationship for PR reasons – he’d hate me.”

Pansy just looked at him: “That was not a denial. You're thinking about it.”

Draco shook his head. “I'm thinking I might finally have a chance to be Harry’s friend, and I'm not going to jeopardize it. Also, Ginny Weasley is terrifying. Trying to steal her boyfriend would get me eviscerated.”

This was too much talk about his feelings, and he gladly turned the tables on Pansy: “What’s going on with you? Since when do you need to deal with Gringotts? Your parents give you all the money you want!”

Pansy shook her head. “Only as long as I do what they want. They’ve got plans for me, and I can’t go through with them. I’m trying to get access to my trust fund, and run away to Blaise. He said I could stay with him, when push comes to shove. He and his mum made it through the war unscathed.”

“I’m sorry.” Draco said. He hugged an arm around her shoulders.

oOo

"So much for our plans." Hermione said, after Draco and Pansy had disappeared into the blonde's room.

"Are your parents going to be angry?" Ron asked.

Hermione leaned back against his chest. "No, they’re going to understand. But we'll have to do the ceremony tomorrow. I finally finished researching the right ritual."

Harry finished writing two letters and came over, after sending them out with Pig.

"Andromeda said she's going to help, so I just wrote her if she's able to come tomorrow."

Hermione frowned. "Did you tell her about our houseguests?"

Harry nodded: "Yes, as I spoke to her the last time. She's not happy with me about him being here. But she is going to help anyway."

A short time later, Harry and Ginny ended up in the kitchen. He made hot chocolate, and Ginny sat on the counter next to him.

"Malfoy and Parkinson in your house. Who would have seen that coming?" she mused.

Harry snorted. "Not me." But he sobered up. "How's George doing?"

Ginny sighed. "I took out his trash, which consisted of take away containers and empty bottles. He's currently drowning his sorrow in Firewhiskey."

"That's not good."

"No, but Angelina is going to stay with him. I flooded her after seeing the state of his flat. She came right over, and Lee and she are going to take turns. They loved Fred, too. Maybe he's going to accept help from his friends, if he won't accept it from his family. "

She shook her head. “He says he can’t be home right now, can’t see any of us. I understand, I also needed to get away. But it has to be so much worse for him, and I really think he should not be alone.”

Harry nodded. “I can’t imagine losing a sibling, let alone a twin.”

They drank their hot chocolate in silence, lost in thought about Fred, and all the others who died in this war.

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I need to get all my ideas lined up with the plot. 
> 
> As you have noticed, Ginny appeared in the story. I really like Ginny, and I like her and Harry together. But I also like Hary/Draco ... Right now, it's Harry/Ginny, but they have not really talked about their relationship after the war yet. It's a backround realationship, and I have updated the tags accordingly. 
> 
> I have said before, this might be pre-slash. Draco is definitly gay, and realises he might have feelings for Harry. But he's not going to jeopardize a growing friendship, especially not if he's sure he's going to end up in prison. If I decide to write a relationship between Harry and Draco, it's not going to happen as long as they are on such unequal footing. At this point at the story, Draco depends on Harry to keep him out of prison. And that's not to mention the looming trial...
> 
> Next chapter: Andromeda. 
> 
> I wish all of you a very Happy Christmas or Happy Holidays! Take care!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy meets the Grangers. Discussions about Muggles, Wizards, and racism. At the end, a visitor, and a bad reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some racist language in there. Pansy and Helena discuss racism in the wizarding world, and Helena tries to turn the tables at Pansy, calling her "not real english", to make her see how it feels to be despised for something she can't control. In my headcanon, Pansy has East Asian ancestors (who came to Hong Kong during the Taiping Rebellion, and relocated to England in the 1930ths, before the Second Sino-Japanese War (Too much info, I know, but I started to research a possible backround for her family, and I had to share some of it)). So Pansy is pureblood, but not white. By the standarts of the wizarding world I decided for this story, skin colour is unimportant. Magic ability and pureblood ancestors are the only important factors in the circles Draco and Pansy were raised in.

The next morning brought the entertainment that was Pansy meeting Hermione’s parents. At least, it was entertainment to the Gryffindors, but Draco was nervous she would say something rude and make everyone angry with her (and by proxy, with him).

“Are you sure they’re Muggles?” Pansy whispered in his ear as they took their seats at the big kitchen table. “They look so normal.”

“Does she knows we can hear her?” Mr. Granger asked Draco. “Or does she thinks a lack of magical ability makes us deaf?”

“Sorry, I’ve never met your kind before.” Pansy said.

Weasley snorted into his tea. Ginevra, across from Draco and Pansy, sat up straighter, a predatory grin spreading out on her face.

“Pansy!” Draco hissed through clenched teeth. On his other side, the newspaper in front of Hermione was shaking slightly.

_“Our kind?”_ Mrs. Granger’s eyebrows rose up.

Pansy nodded. “Muggles, you know? My parents never allowed me to go somewhere where I would have to meet muggles, let alone speak to one of you.”

“We prefer the term non-magical.” Mrs. Granger said.

“But Muggle is not a bad word! Nor like mud…”

Draco nearly choked on his eggs. He kicked her under the table. _“Shut up!”_

“What? I’m just trying to make conversation.” Pansy pouted. She had it down to an art, and Draco nearly caved in. He needed more tea to deal with this. Maybe he could drown himself in it.

“It is highly possible you’ll be offending without realizing it. Our parents taught us nothing but rubbish about Muggles, apparently.”

“But they _aren’t_ like us.” Pansy said. “There is a difference, and ignoring it won’t make it disappear.”

_"_ _Pansy!"_ Draco scolded, but Mrs. Granger laughed.

"Oh, really! Do you think you're the first group of racists to ever walk this earth? You're not even the only ones in Britain right now."

She focused on Pansy. "You've got East Asian ancestors, haven't you? I don't expect you to understand, you're not even _real_ English."

 _"Excuse me?!"_ Pansy started. Her wand was already halfway out of her sleeve. Draco held onto her arm.

Hermione emerged from behind her newspaper, and fixed her mother with an incredulous look. Harry, sitting next to her, did the same. Mr. Granger just smiled at them and shock his head. Draco hoped this meant Mrs. Granger had a plan, and this would not end with cursing.

Mrs. Granger was focused on Pansy. She smiled in mock sympathy: "Mixed blood, it's no wonder you've got no manners. You can try to act like a proper young English Lady all you want, but your mongrel heritage will always shine through."

Now Pansy looked ready to curse her, and Hermione looked uncomfortable at her mother. _"Mum!"_

"I'm just giving her a taste of her own medicine. Bigotry isn’t so great if the tables are turned, isn’t it?" Mrs. Granger said.

Hermione sighed. "What Mum just said is the kind of thing white supremacists believe in. They are prejudiced in regards of skin colour. They think white people - Western European - are a superior race."

"Skin colour?!" Pansy said. "What’s that got to do with anything?"

"Skin colour?" Draco repeated in astonishment. "That's stupid. Why should skin colour matter?"

"Well, it's going to blow your mind that some muggles are really serious about it.” Harry said. “Oh, and they kill each other over religious differences, too."

Pansy seemed honestly confused. "Because they believe in different deities? Really?"

Hermione nodded: "That, too, but sometimes it's the same one. They kill each other over different approaches of worship. And even if they've got the same skin colour, and believe in the same brand of religion, they still kill each other over being from different nations."

"That's absolutely stupid." Pansy said.

" _Thank you!_ So how can you see this for the utter bullshit it is, but believe it makes a difference if someone has wizarding parents?!" Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. “Not to mention the way wizards treat muggles!”

Draco shrugged. "It's what I've been raised to believe my whole life."

Pansy looked uncomfortable. "But... I’m not saying I agree with Vol …Voldemort. But it all started because we decided to go into hiding. We separated from the Muggle word, but whenever one of us found a muggleborn child with magic, they’d brought or stole this child to raise it in our world.”

“They just stole children?” Mr. Granger asked. Mrs. Granger narrowed her eyes. “Is this the reason we have stories about Fay and changelings?”

Hermione nodded. “It might have been. I’ve read about this. It only stopped in the 19th century, at the height of the Industrial Revolution. Afterwards, it became practice to integrate us from age 11, starting with Hogwarts.”

“Muggle society changed too much. Their technology made a leap, making it more difficult for us to just disappear children.” Draco said.

“Mum said the political climate in the Wizengamot changed, too.” Ginny chimed in. “People started to believe it was cruel to steal children, to rob them of their families. Some of them also believed children with an understanding of muggles might come in handy. World War I happened, and it made many of us afraid of what Muggles could do with their technology, with their weapons.”

“Muggleborns are not even a fourth of our population, but you and the half-bloods who have been raised with muggles are changing our whole culture. Maybe it’s really fear of losing our traditions, maybe it’s just the old families fearing to lose their influence, but it’s a real fear. Voldemort took advantage of that.” Pansy said.

Harry frowned: “Tom Riddle was a muggle-raised half-blood. How did he end up being the leader of any bunch of conservatives who cared about old traditions? He must have known nothing about this when he came to Hogwarts.”

“A half-blood?” Pansy asked, her eyes wide.

“Long story”, Harry said. “But yes. His mother slipped his rich muggle father a love potion, but he left them as soon as she stopped the potion. Tom Riddle grew up in an orphanage, and hated muggles by the time he came to Hogwarts.”

Pansy blinked. “A poor, muggle-raised half-blood? In Slytherin? They would have eaten him alive. The 1940s were all about status and family connections.”

“As opposed to now?” Hermione said with raised eyebrows.

“It’s hard to believe, but it is different now.” Pansy said. “My family is new money. We’re purebloods, but my great-great-grandparents worked for their money. 60 years ago we would have never gotten accepted into the same social circles as the sacred 28.”

Hermione’s smile was just a little bit mocking.

Weasley shrugged. “Riddle’s mother was a Gaunt, which had to count for something. He was a parseltounge, a skilled, charming wizard, who made Headboy. People like Slughorn most likely saw potential, and the chance to bind him to their families.”

Hermione beamed at Weasley, and Draco was once more baffled by the sharp-sightedness the other boy could display.

“Dumbledore said Riddle vanished after Hogwarts to travel and study abroad. He reinvented himself as Lord Voldemort a few years later, and not many people made the connection between him and Tom Riddle.” Harry said.

He looked into the direction of the stairs, as a faint sound could be heard. “Oh, that’s Andromeda!” He left for the living room.

Mrs. Ganger looked contemplative into her tea cup. Draco wondered for a brief moment if she attempted to do divination, but then she met his gaze and said: “He formed a personal cult, didn’t he? What great satisfaction it must have given him to have the children and grandchildren of people who’d once looked down on him for being poor and half-blood kneeling before him. He gained more power than any of them, turned their descendants into his slaves and nearly conquered their whole world. There’s something rather karmic about it.”

Draco blinked. This line of thought had never crossed his mind. His grandfather had supported Voldemort, but it had been his father who had become a death eater. He’d never wondered if his grandfather or his great-grandfather and the Dark Lord had known each other in school.

“That’s a bit petty, isn’t it?” Hermione said. “Taking over the world because you want to gain the upper hand over your schoolyard bullies …

Draco missed Ginny’s answer, because in this moment, Harry came back. He had a baby in his arms and said: “… in here, but we’re nearly finished.”

Aunt Bella walked through the door.

Draco stood, his stool crashing behind him. “No! _No, no, no!_ ”

She looked at him with cold distain, and Draco stumbled back until he hit the wall.

"So that's the Malfoy boy. I was under the impression that you'd kept him locked up, Harry."

Draco could not really hear her over the ringing in his ears. _Aunt Bella was dead! If she was here, **He** was here, too!_ He curled up, bringing his arms over his head. _Not again, not again!_

Harry said something, sounding angry.

_Bellatrix is dead. She's dead, she's dead, she's dead._

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I couldn't resist ;-)
> 
> This chapter was becoming rather long, and I needed a good break (I like cliffhangers, as long as I'm the one writing them). But I promise, the next part is nearly done!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Draco's panic attack, and the Heart of the House.

Harry watched in confusion as Draco stumbled back, trying to curl up in the corner of the kitchen.

“I never said we’re locking him up! We don’t run a prison!” he said angrily.

Andromeda took Teddy from his arms. “I want to protect my grandson, and a Death Eater given free run of your house it the direct opposite of a save environment for a baby!”

“His magic is restrained.” Ron said, who had come to stand next to Harry. Harry smiled gratefully at him.

In the meantime, Pansy and Hermione had carefully gotten near Draco.

“Draco! Draco, what’s wrong?!” Pansy asked, but Harry saw Hermione’s face light up in sudden understanding.

"Draco, it’s Hermione. You're at Grimmauld Place. Voldemort is dead. Bellatrix is dead. Harry won. "

She sat down next to him, careful not to touch him. “The woman is Andromeda Tonks. She’s Bellatrix’ and Narcissa’s sister, your other Aunt. You're at Grimmauld Place. Voldemort is dead. Bellatrix is dead. Harry won.”

The awful noise Draco was making stopped.

“Good.” Hermione said. “Listen to me: You're at Grimmauld Place. Voldemort is dead. Bellatrix is dead. Harry won.”

A shuddering breath, and Draco uncurled a little bit, lowering his arms. Hermione continued to speak.

Helena and Daniel had approached Andromeda and introduced themselves. They spoke quietly, and left the kitchen in the direction of the living room. Harry turned back to Draco. He had uncurled more, his arms resting on his knees now, and Pansy pressed herself at his side.

Draco looked up to meet Harry’s gaze. “He’s dead, isn’t he? He’s really dead?”

Harry nodded. “He’s dead, and he’s never coming back.”

Draco let his head fall back, hitting the wall. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I'm a nutcase."

“You don’t have to apologize for having a panic attack.” Hermione said. She stood. “I’m going to show Andromeda my notes for the ritual. You said she wrote about having done it before?”

Harry nodded.

Ginny and Ron had started to clear the table, and the clattering cutlery seemed to bring Draco fully back into the present. He dragged a hand across his face, and stood on wobbly legs.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t think about her resemblance to Bellatrix. Somehow I thought you would know what she looks like.”

“I didn’t. Mother never spoke of her.” Draco said.

"Do you think you are up to do the ritual?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "But I don't think she'll want me near her. Having her here should be enough. She's a Black, I'm only half."

"She has been disowned, and you haven't." Hermione said, who was just walking back into the room. "She said it might make a difference, but it depends on who changed the wards after Orion Black died. She said Sirius’ mother was most likely so lost in grief that she didn’t really took control of the wards. It’s possible that Andromeda’s father took over after Walburga’s death."

Draco nodded in agreement, and they went to the living room.

oOo

As they entered the living room, Harry was once again struck by the thought that Andromeda was the kind of woman Aunt Petunia had always aspired to be: a Lady. She was elegant and composed, even while holding a squirming baby who seemed not want to go to sleep.

Andromeda settled Teddy in one arm, and used her wand to direct a long piece of fabric out of her handbag. The fabric grew bigger in size as the shrinking charm vanished, danced in elegant swirls around her and Teddy, and settled in an baby-sling around them both, securing Teddy against her.

“I didn’t know wizards used baby-slings!” Helena said excited. “They are a lifesaver, aren’t they? Hermione was such a curious baby, always wanted to explore the world. But walk her around in a baby-sling, and she was asleep in minutes.”

Daniel was smiling. “Oh, yes! Remember when she was teething? The second molar caused a lot of night-time walks.”

“I must confess that I don’t look forward to do that part of child raising again.” Andromeda smiled.

Next to Harry, Hermione stifled a sob. “You remember …”

Daniel was quick to hug her. “I feel like it’s all coming back, Darling.”

Helena nodded. “I feel like some memories are more prominent right now, the ones from your earliest childhood.”

“They settle in chronical order!” Hermione said. “We have to find a way to keep record of this, it could help to treat other cases of memory loss, and …”

“Perhaps we should tend to the wards, first?” Andromeda asked politely. “Teddy is sleeping now, and we have approximate two hours until he wakes.”

Hermione blushed. “Yes, of course. Would you lead the way?”

“Wait” Harry said. “Should Teddy be with you? Is it safe for him?”

Andromeda smiled. “I might have been legally disowned, but to do that magically is nearly impossible. The wards work with blood relations, they’ll recognize him as a Black. He’ll be safe, Harry.”

“I’d love to see it the ritual.” Helena said.

Andromeda shook her head: “I fear that’s not possible. Given my relatives’ view of Muggles, you should not attempt to come near magic ceremonies in this house. It's going to be save once Harry has mastered the wards. "

Helena nodded: "That's what I gathered from Hermione’s notes. But I hoped there would be a way."

"Is it save for _Hermione_?" Daniel asked.

Andromeda nodded: "As much as the bigots like to pretend otherwise, there is no magical way to distinguish a muggleborn from a pureblood. Even lineage spells simply tell you if two people are related or not. Bigots will tell you there is a difference in the magical core of muggleborns, but that's rubbish. People who have got magic possess a magical core. The strength of said core has nothing to do with the magical abilities of one's parents."

oOo

The little group which made its way down into the cellar consisted of Andromeda, Teddy, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco, who dragged a few steps behind the rest of them.

The cellar had become familiar to Harry during the last weeks of renovation. They had repaired and cleaned up the ice cellar. Now you could once again summon items from down there directly into the pantry. As much as they had made jokes about it, the house had no dungeons. It was dark, yes, but also simply a cellar. There were only storage rooms, a wine cellar, the boiler room, and the house elves’ quarters.

Kreacher had filled those with everything he had wanted to keep. Harry had spent two long days down here with Bill, making sure made sure none of it was dangerous.

But Andromeda obviously knew the house better than any of them. She turned sharply before the wine cellar, and walked through a solid wall. Harry stopped. Ron tentative touched the wall, and drew his hand back with a curse. “Bollocks! Feels like electricity.”

In an instance, Andromeda was back. “Forgive me, but I wanted to make sure the wards had not been altered. Hermione, take my hand. Boys, form a line behind her. Take each other’s hands, and don’t let go.”

oOo

Draco, the last in line, took Harry’s hand. He closed his eyes as he stepped into the wall. The overwhelming feeling of heavy stone all around him, no light, no air, was as suffocating as it was 15 years ago. His grandfather had died, and one of his earliest memories was being held in his mother’s arms, walking through a stone wall far beneath the manor. He remembered only parts of the ritual, but walking through solid stone was what gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards.

He couldn’t hide his face against his mother’s shoulder now, feeling her warmth. But there was another source of warmth: Harry’s hand. His grip was firm and stable, like in the moment when he pulled Draco out of the fire. Draco concentrated on this feeling, letting it anchor him. Harry was here. No need to panic. He would get Draco out of this, just like he had done before.

Finally, there was air to breath. Draco opened his eyes to a small, round room. The ashlars were rough and old from age. The room was old, older than the rest of the house, and most likely older than most of London. He could feel the magical residue all around him, testament of generations of wizards who had added their magic to the wards.

Andromeda had conjured orbs of green fire, and Hermione had just finished adding her own blue flames.

Harry let go of his hand, and Draco moved to the far side, away from Andromeda. Now that the panic had settled, he could see the differences. But she still looked uncanny similar to Bellatrix, especially in this eerie light.

Except her calmness. Bellatrix had never been calm. But Draco saw his mother in Andromeda's calm, regal posture, her precise movements, and her quiet assurance. It was nice to see some positive family resemblance, but it was still unsettling.

“First of all, I’m going to cast a purify spell on each of you. They are going to cancel the effects of any potion you have taken. Afterwards, please form a circle around Harry.”

Draco swallowed. He had known this would have to happen, but he wasn’t looking forwards to spend the next hours without the Aureus potion.

Andromeda spoke the spell out loud, and Draco felt the enchantment wash over him. It felt like standing under a warm shower, fresh and clean. But the moment it had finished, he felt the tremor in his right hand.

oOo

Harry had read about the protections people put on their homes, but reading and seeing were two very different things. He had expected to dislike the ritual chamber, but despite being small and dark, it wasn’t similar to the cupboard at all. He hadn’t expected the feeling of warmth and safety. It wasn’t a feeling he would have associated with the Black family. But there it was.

The purify spell washed over him like a fresh gust of wind when he was flying. He felt good, awake and ready to face this.

Andromeda gestured to the middle of the room, and Harry took a carful step to the position she’d indicated. Andromeda indicated positions to herself, Ron, Hermione and Draco. North, South, East and West.

“We begin.” Andromeda said, and took a dagger out of her belt. Copper, his inner Hermione reminded him. The oldest metal forged by humans, and the one still used for rituals like this. Harry met Hermione’s gaze. “Copper.” He mouthed soundless. Hermione beamed at him.

Andromeda made a small cut across her palm. She stepped forward and led her blood drop into the stone at Harry’s feet.

“I am of Black blood, but you are the Master of the House. I give these wards to you, out of my own free will.” Andromeda said. Then she held out the dagger to Draco. He copied her movements, but he seemed to struggle with cutting his palm. Harry frowned. Draco stepped forward to let the blood drop at Harry’s feet, and repeated Andromeda’s words. Harry couldn’t help to notice that he looked sick. Was it a trick of light, the blood or something else?

Harry had no time to dwell at the thought, because Andromeda had started to chant. It wasn’t Latin, but Gaelic, Harry thought. He remembered Sirius telling him about the Blacks being originally from Wales.

He felt some kind of tension building up. Electricity in the air, like a thunderstorm might strike any minute. Andromeda finished her chant. The stone beneath his feet rambled, and a part of it vanished. A small circle had opened up, encircled by a thin red line. It emitted a warm, golden light.

  
Andromeda stepped forward, and offered the dagger to him. She switched back to English for his sake, and said: “Harry James Potter, you are the legal heir of Sirius Orion Black. Do you accept this inheritance?”

Harry nodded: “Yes, I do.”

“Do you accept responsibility for this house, and all it contains? Do you vow to protect it and its inhabitants to the best of your capability?”

“I do.”

“To this, I bear witness.” Andromeda said. After her, Hermione, Ron and Draco repeated the phrase.

Harry took the dagger and made a cut across his palm, letting the blood drop into the circle.

He _felt_ the moment the first drop touched the golden light.

Andromeda spoke another enchantment, and the light rose up to surround Harry. He felt something shift, and suddenly, he could feel the people around him. The calm flame in front of him was Andromeda. The small light was Teddy. Next to her, Hermione was a bright flame. Ron was next, a sturdy, steady light. But Draco’s light was faint, and growing weaker.

Harry concentrated on the wards, and realized he could feel the others in the house, too. Helena and Daniel, Ginny and Pansy. Each of them was a steady light, even Kreacher.

The wards were a surprise, too. He had thought them to be fixed boundaries, fences, but they were more alike to vines, growing around the house in every direction, along the whole block. He could feel more people, but they were a low light in the background.

But the people in his house: Hermione and Ron were brightly lit up. _My friends, my family,_ he thought. Their light turned golden, matching his own. Could he do this on purpose? Ginny was a bright, glinting flame. He concentrated, and her flame turned golden, too.

When he opened his eyes, the whole chamber was lit up in a warm, golden light. Golden threats connected Harry to the others, golden threats were forming a circle, going from Andromeda to Ron, to Hermione and to Draco, than back to Andromeda.

“Well done.” Andromeda said. “I understand the house is under a new Fidelius charm right now. You should be able to feel it.”

Harry concentrated on the vines directly around the house, and found them covered by a thin blanket. It felt like snow.

He nodded. “I think I know what you mean. I can also feel the people in this house. Ron and Hermione are golden, like me, and the others are lighter. I turned Ginny’s light golden, too.”

Andromeda smiled warmly. “You’re a natural at this. The wards are simple: they keep people out and protect those inside. There are complex layers, but this is their main function. You need to include the people you want to be able to come into the house uninvited, or apparate from here, for example. You seem to visualise the access rights as different colours. Members of your family are going to be “golden”, as you described it. I’m going to explain it in detail to you over the next days. “

Harry nodded.

“The wards are going to find a way to communicate with you. It’s going to be a simple notice that something requires you to inspect the wards. It’s probably another visual reminder, but it might take a few hours until something sends it to you.”

Harry nodded again. He suddenly felt tiered and drained. “Are we done for now?”

“Yes,” Andromeda said. “Tell the heart to go to sleep again. The indication is _“Kuɸsketi”_. Harry nodded and repeated the unfamiliar word.

The stone circle closed, and the golden light vanished. All that remained were the green and blue flames.

"This was amazing!" Hermione said in wonder.

Stepping back though the stone was different from before. This time, Harry was the first to go. Stepping inside the chamber for first time it had been strange, but interesting. He hadn’t really disliked the feeling of being surrounded by warm stone and earth. But walking back now it felt like walking through air, as simple as crossing from one room to the other.

Harry smiled. He was aware of the house in a new and totally different way, but it was exciting. It felt right. It felt like home.

oOo

The shaking got worse. The stairs out of the cellar into the entrance hall seemed to become longer and more steeply with each step. Draco could not hide the tremors any longer, as the pain became sharper and more stinging with each step.

He hissed in pain, and Harry turned around from the animated discussion with Andromeda and Hermione. “Are you all right?”

Draco faltered, and gave up any pretence. He was more falling than sitting down, and his knees hit the marble with a crack. Harry’s eyes went wide with surprise, but it was Weasley who carefully tugged Draco’s arm over his shoulders and helped him to get up and into the sitting room.

Draco’s teeth were chattering by now, but he tried to speak anyway. “My … Po …pot….”

Luckily, Hermione was already thinking about it. “Kreacher! Please get Draco’s Aureus potion right now!”

It took mere seconds until Kreacher was back, and gave the bottle to Hermione. She held it against Draco’s lips, countering the tremors with ease. He shook all over, but the potion worked its magic. The tremors lost their intensity, and soon he could speak normally again. Only his hands were still slightly trembling. “Thanks.”

Hermione looked closely at the bottle. “This is a generic from the Diagon Dispensary.”

"Yes?" Draco said. He looked confused. "I asked the house elf to buy some after I ran out. Harry knows."

She narrowed her eyes: "Are you telling me you've been using store brought Aureus potion the whole time? That is not even half as effective as individually brewed! It needs to be attuned to your magical core. You know that!"

"I can't leave the house, not to mention the fact that no shop maker would take the time to attune a pain relief for a Death Eater!" Draco shook his arm with the dampening bracelet into her direction. "And I can't brew it myself!

Hermione rolled her eyes. "But I can! Honestly, are you being obtuse on purpose? Why didn't you asked for help?!"

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked. Finally, he said: "It never crossed my mind you would want to help."

"Do I strike you as a person who enjoys seeing someone suffer?"

"No?"

"At least you're not a complete moron." Hermione said sharply. "I'm going to get some supplies, and we're going to brew it this evening." She marched out of the door.

"What did just happened?" Draco asked dumbfounded.

“Remember how she is about the house elves?” Weasley said. “She doesn’t like to see somebody suffer, especially not if she can’t help it. So, you’re kind of the new Winky.”

Harry, his arms full of a baby who had just woken, snorted with laughter, and Draco decided he’d rather didn’t know. He closed his eyes and let the potion work it’s magic, too aware that Andromeda was watching him with a thoughtful expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun playing with various ideas for the ritual about the wards, but it took a long time to descide with idea I wanted to use. I always liked the idea that wizards put a lot of wards on their houses, especially families like the Blacks and the Malfoys, but also the Weasleys. I decided they use blood realations to identify family members, but to keep it simple and adaptable, once the former Master of the wards has died. Walburga lost her husband and Regulus in the same year, so I think she either was grieving so badley the thought never crossed her mind, or she never excluded Sirius from the wards because she was hoping he would come crawling back to her some day. When she died, Cygnus Black took care of the house, but most likly thought Walburga had excluded Sirius from the wards.
> 
> The Aureus Potion is supposed the same potion Snape used to treat the curse damage on Dumbledore's hand (https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Thick_golden_potion). It might work on after effects of the Cruciatus Curse, too.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pansy tells why she's running away from home, and Harry bonds with Teddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but life with small children means less and less writing time. This chapter might be full of friendship and forgiveness, but that's the way this story is going. I like it that way (I also blame my oldest, whose favorite show (since the last two years!) is "My little pony". I'm not complaining, it's a great show! But she has chosen to watch the movie for the last three times she was allowed a movie night ...).
> 
> Warnings: Pansy talks about someone being murdered (not described in detail), and a forced marriage is discussed.

When Draco felt better, he went searching for Pansy. He still hadn't figured out why she was running away from home. To his surprise, she was in the kitchen with Mrs. Granger, both of them kneading dough.

He made a cup of tea for himself, and listened quietly. It seemed that Mrs. Granger, for all that she was harsh and spoke her mind without any regard to social conforms or pleasantries, had taken a liking to Pansy. Maybe it was because Pansy didn't tend to soften her blows either. Even more surprising, Pansy liked her back.

[Later that day, he said: "I'd never thought I'd see the day when you are making nice with a muggle."

Pansy shrugged. "She's the first adult who ever asked me what I want to do with my life. That's... refreshing. And nice. But she's also ruthless. No coddling."]

They were in a deep discussion about something called feminism. He had no idea what that might be, but Pansy was talking about pureblood exceptions of women, and Mrs. Granger bristled like an angry cat.

Pansy was in the midst of describing pureblood courting rituals when Hermione and Weasley wandered in.

"And this is something you are required to do?" Mrs. Granger asked, "You are prepared to marry whomever your parents choose for you?"

"I always wanted to be an Auror." Pansy said, chin high, daring them to say something. Nobody made fun of her, and she continued to knead the dough, slapping it to the worktop in hard, methodical beats.

"I had an aunt. Eleanor was a lot younger than my uncle and my parents, and she had always time to play with me, to tell stories. They had no children of their own, yet. I loved her more than anyone else in the world. When I was eight, she died. She fell down the grand staircase in my uncle's home, and broke her neck. A tragic accident."

Draco winced. He knew this story.

"My uncle remarried very quickly. Two years later, I played in the gardens and stumbled across my uncle and his new wife. She was crying, so I hide. He told her that she better started to give him an heir, or she would meet the same end as the last barren bitch."

Pansy rubbed a hand over her eyes. She ended up with dough in her eyebrow. Mrs. Granger handed her a piece of kitchen roll.

"The Aurors had ruled Eleanor's death an accident. But you can fall down the stairs and break your neck if you're petrified. The leading Auror was an old friend of the family. I always wanted to make it better. I won't let something like this slide, let people get away with murder. But that’s not an appropriate pastime for a girl like me. I’m supposed to bear children and hold up the family name."

Hermione looked furious. But it was Weasley who spoke: "Well, if you're still interested, I'm starting Auror training in January. You need to start preparing for the tests. Given the state of education in Hogwarts last year, they’re going to rely on these scores only, instead of N.E.W.T.s."

"Like they would take me." Pansy snarled.

Weasley shrugged. "Let's take a stroll through Diagon Alley. We'll take Harry and it's going to make front page. People will understand that he doesn't hold a grudge."

"He wants to update his wardrobe anyway." Hermione said. "Maybe Pansy has the patience to help him, because I certainly don't."

Pansy looked nothing short of gobsmacked. "You would do this for me? What do you want in return?" she asked, incredulous.

"Stop being a bitch to me and mine. If you’re willing to become a real Auror, I’m willing to give you a change. Let’s call a truce." Weasley said.

"Escort me to Gringotts, and we've got a deal." Pansy said.

"You’re such a Slytherin." Weasley said, but he nodded.

Draco was concentrating on the question Pansy had not answered. “You’re really running away than?”

Pansy shrugged. “If I can get control of my trust fund, yes. My grandparents made it for me, I’m of age now, so it’s mine. If I stay, I’m supposed to get married in three months.”

“This archaic world has _child marriages_?!” Mrs. Granger said appalled.

“I’m an adult! I’m of age!” Pansy said.

Mr. Granger was not impressed. “You’re still a teenager! Biologically speaking, your brain is still maturing until you’re near 30.”

“Mum, the legal age of adulthood for wizards is 17. In some circles, corporal punishment for children is still common. It makes perfectly sense they are fine with arranged marriages at such a young age, too.” Hermione chimed in.

“Let me guess: the wizarding world doesn’t even have child services.” Mrs. Granger said.

“At least not in Britain.” Hermione said.

“What’s child services?” Weasley asked at the same time.

Hermione pointed to him with a flourish, and Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes.

“Whom do they have in mind?” Draco asked. The list of possible candidates – light or neutral, pureblood, and with enough political sway to be exploit – was short.

“Theodosius Greyson. He’s on the Wizengamot, and Father tries to gain new allies to stay out of Azkaban."

“He’s older than your parents.” Draco said. “Shopping for a new brood mare, isn’t he?”

“He wants an heir.” Pansy said. “Fertility, and all that.”

“That’s even worse!” Mrs. Granger said. “And it speaks volumes that his first choice is a barley legal teenager. Do you even want to be a mother right now?! It’s perfectly fine if you want to have children as soon as possible, but it needs to be _your_ choice. Having a child is incredibly stressful, and means a heavy responsibility for at least the next 18 years.”

Pansy looked at her with wide eyes, and burst into tears. “That’s what I told my parents! I can’t be responsible for a child! I’m barley able to be responsible for myself!”

Draco put his arm around her shoulder. “Your parents are trying to ally themselves with the winning side. That was to be expected.”

Pansy sniffled, taking another kitchen roll Mrs. Granger offered her. “They always hoped I might marry you, even if your parents think we are nouveau-riche and would have never agreed.”

Draco grimaced. “And look at how the tables have turned. My name is no longer worth anything, and any political influence my family had has vanished. I’m astonished the Ministry hasn’t made a grab for our money yet.”

Pansy shrugged. “My father escaped Azkaban by the scrap of his teeth the last time. He’s under house arrest now, and he’s throwing money at his allies to keep himself out of prison. He’s always been more of a financier, so maybe he’s going to be fine. But I don’t want to be a bargain chip.”

“You’re not going to be one!” Mrs. Granger said. “If you can’t access your trust fund, we’ll figure out something else. Nobody is going to force you into a marriage!”

The look on her face was startlingly familiar.

 _So that’s where Hermione’s got her resolve,_ Draco thought. If her mother was anything like her, Pansy would be fine.

oOo

In the living room, Harry was slowly getting the hang of bottle-feeding a small baby. It felt amazing, and terrifying all the same. The small, warm body in his arms, the tiny hands, the unfamiliar, but nice smell of a little baby … It was nice. Really, really nice.

He settled deeper into the cushions, and watched as Teddy finished the bottle off. The small eyes were already drifting shut again, only to slowly open a little bit, as if to check if Harry was still there.

“Don’t I need to burp him?” Harry asked. He vaguely remembered hearing that this was a thing with babies.

Andromeda took the empty bottle from him and shock her head. “Not always. If he falls into sleep like this, let him sleep. We had a very fretful night. You can shift him in your arms, so he’s laying upright across your chest.”

Harry moved Teddy very, very slow and ever so careful, keeping a hand on the tiny head. The little boy made a small sound, one eye opening a little, until he drifted back to sleep, his head resting just under Harry’s chin.

“He’s so small.” Harry whispered in awe. “I’ve never held a baby before. I didn’t realize how small he’d be.”

Andromeda smiled at him. “He’s only four months old. He’ll get bigger in no time.” Then she looked around and said: “I like what you did with the house. It feels friendlier now, warmer.”

“I hope you’re not angry about the renovation.” Harry said.

“Harry, this is your home now. You needed to make it truly yours. Besides, Aunt Walburga had a terrible taste in decorations.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, yes! We vanished a lot of ghastly dark curtains, and had buried eleven house elves heads! We also moved a lot of furniture, but if there’s something you want, feels free to take a look. We put all the spare furniture in the attic. I would have thrown away quite a lot, but according to Draco, that’s “plebeian”. He made quite the case for the quality of the furniture, and since I do have an enormous attic, I decided to humour him. Apparently, _“One does not throw away perfectly fine period furniture! That’s what the attic is for!”_.”

Andromeda watched him with a thoughtful little frown. “I was under the impression Narcissa’s son is a Death Eater. What is he doing here?”

Harry let out a deep sigh. “He burned down Malfoy Manor.”

Her short gasp told him that Andromeda understood the enormity of this action at once, just like Ron had.

“He did _what?”_ she asked.

“He was a bigoted bully for as long as I knew him. We could not stand each other at Hogwarts.” Harry said. “I believe he wanted to be a Death Eater, right until he had to be one. He realized the hard way Riddle had only disposable servants.”

Teddy made a low sound, and moved a little. Harry didn’t dare to breathe, but Teddy just settled deeper into sleep.

“You think he regrets his choices?” Andromeda asked.

Harry nodded. “He brought Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but he was not able to kill Dumbledore. He’s not a killer. During the war, we were captured and brought to Malfoy Manor. He didn’t identify me. This action brought Dobby the time to rescue us. The evening Draco burned the Manor down, Ron and I were there. Draco was drunk, and … the war broke everything he ever believed. I don’t want him to end up in Azkaban. I actually like who he is now that he’s done being a bigoted bully. I want him to continue growing up to be a decent human being.”

“And you’re able to forget years of hate, just like this?” Andromeda seemed lost in thought, and Harry got the feeling she wasn’t talking about Draco anymore.

“Not forget,” Harry said. “But forgive. I’m done with hate, at least in his case. I don’t think I’m ever going to forgive the likes of Lucius Malfoy."

A bitter laugh escaped Andromeda’s lips. “Lucius … they wanted me to marry him. I ran away.”

There was a story behind that, but Harry didn’t pry. He listened to Teddy’s soft breathing. Something Dr. Kumar had said crossed his mind. _“Do you think confining a toddler to a cupboard is a normal response to a sudden addition to your family?”_

Looking at Teddy, he could finally see that it wasn’t. He had been nearly a year older than Teddy, but still a little baby. How could his aunt and uncle have done this? What person looked at a little child and decided to treat them like this?!

“Nobody is going to hurt you.” He whispered.

Andromeda looked questioning at him, and Harry spoke up: “Sorry, I was lost in thought. I … I know you barely know me, but I want to be part of Teddy’s life. Remus and Tonks named me his godfather, and I want to be there for him.”

It was hard to look at Andromeda. He was halfway braved for rejection, but she nodded, smiling.

“I was hoping you would feel this way. The last year has been hard, and it would mean a great deal to me to have some support in raising Teddy. Ted’s sister Julia has also offered to help, as have my niece and my nephew. Marcus has children of his own, his youngest is only a year old. But it would be good for Teddy to have magical relatives, too. You’re very welcome to be a part of his life, Harry.”

Harry nodded. He had no idea what he would do, he knew nothing about babies, but he would manage. Hermione would find him all the books about child raising, and Ron would help him find all the best magical toys. Ginny would love to be the cool aunt, the professional Quidditch player.

Teddy was an orphan like Harry, but he would grow up with a loving family nonetheless. Harry would make sure of it.

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not find Pansy’s father on lists of Death Eaters we know by name. In this story, Parkinson was not part of any kind of inner circle, but taking more of a quiet role, backing Voldemort with money.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, and a talk between an aunt and a nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This belongs to the last chapter, as it is still the same day. (Maybe one day I'll manage to compose the short chapters into longer ones, but for my writing pace, chapters between 1000 and 2000 words are perfect right now.)
> 
> Warning: a very brief hint at a suicidal attempt.

As they all sat down for Dinner, Harry’s mind was full of new knowledge about the wards. Andromeda had drilled him on their use all afternoon. Ron had happily entertained Teddy, showing an endless patience in charming colourful baby toys to float around in Teddy’s field of view.

Hermione, true to her word, had dragged Draco into the potions lab they had discovered in one part of the attic. Coming down for Dinner, they had with them a floating crib for Teddy, found in one of many chests in the attic labelled “Nursery”. Andromeda examined and renewed the charms, and now Teddy floated next to Andromeda’s chair at the kitchen table, watching everything with big eyes. Ron made funny faces at him from across the table.

Harry sat down next to Teddy, totally enthralled by the little child. Ginny hat left in the morning, going to visit her parents and to prepare everything for the start of her Quidditch training next week. But she had promised to be back. Draco and Pansy sat across from him, with Ron and Hermione next. Helena and Daniel hat taken a seat next to Andromeda, apparently relieved to have another adult in the house. They asked her questions after questions at Dinner, which Andromeda seemed to answer with ease.

“I’m sorry”, Daniel said, “It’s just that I’ve got so many questions! We’ve tried to keep up with knowledge of your world, but it’s not exactly easy. I’d love to get my hands on a book written for people like us, but there seem to be none.”

“It is no hardship.” Andromeda assured him. “I have practice explaining the wizarding world to non-magical people. My late husband was muggleborn, too. His parents were not too interested, but his sister loved to pick my mind about a myriad of topics. Julia is an anthropologist by trade, so it was to be expected.”

“Hermione mentioned that your family was … not in favour of muggleborns.” Daniel said. “It must have been difficult for you to leave this whole mind-set behind.”

Andromeda paused in thought. “Surprisingly, this was the easy part. I had grown apart from their views for a long time. I knew better then to voice my doubts at home, but Hogwarts had broadened my worldview.” She smiled a little: “We had our share of cultural misunderstandings, of course. Ted’s family is by no means poor, but I came from a very different environment. I was a Black, I had been raised with house elves, and I never had to do any housework. Wizards have charms for that, of course, but you still need skill and practice to use them right. Ted used to laugh I would starve in a fully stocked kitchen, because I could not even make myself a cup of tea."

"It sounds like you had gone from being an aristocrat to middle class. A difficult transition, I think, with or without magic." Helena said.

Andromeda inclined her head slightly. "Yes, it was. But it was the best decision I ever made. Even when it came at the cost of my family."

"Did none of them tried to keep in contact?" Daniel asked. “I can’t imagine cutting a family member out of my life like that.”

“That’s what the Blacks are famous for!” Ron chimed in.

"Unfortunately.” Andromeda said. “My uncle Alphard kept in touch, as well as Cousin Sirius. By this time, they both had already been blasted off the family tree. My sisters.... Bella made it clear I was dead to her. Narcissa fell in line with the family.”

Her gaze found Draco, who ducked his head. “She never talked about you. I had no idea you existed until I was seven or eight.”

Andromeda nodded. “Our perfect little flower. She was never one to go against our parents’ wishes. Regulus wrote me sometimes. But he stopped shortly after Dora's birth. I suppose he had become a Death Eater by then.”

"I've meant to tell you something about Regulus." Harry said. He suddenly remembered that Andromeda had no idea about R.A.B. and the locket.

Andromeda raised an elegant eyebrow. "Have you found out what happened to him? Rumour had it Voldemort killed him himself, but it was never confirmed."

"He defected from Riddle. Without what he did we would have lost the war." Harry said.

Hermione nodded: "It seems that he found the reality of being a Death Eater unbearable. He wanted out. Then he found out how Voldemort tried to make himself immortal. Voldemort had used Kreacher for a task, but left him to die. He never thought Regulus would be upset about the death of a house elf."

"But he was." Harry said. "Kreacher survived, and told Regulus about Riddle’s secret. Regulus stole an important artefact and replaced it with a fake. But he died in the process."

Andromeda had gone white. "How?" she asked toneless.

"Poison and Inferi." Harry said.

For a moment, her elegant facade seemed to crumble. But then she had her facial expression under control again.

"Sirius would have been so happy. He always hoped Regulus would turn from them, too." she said softly.

oOo

Dinner with his unknown aunt has been strange, to put it mildly. Draco was glad she had been preoccupied with Mrs. and Mr. Granger.

He remembered the time when he had found a book on the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It had been full of family trees, and he had eagerly traced his own. He had come across his mother’s family, too. And there, written innocently in black ink, had been _Andromeda Black_.

His mother had not been ready to talk about this unknown aunt.

_“Draco, your Mother’s sister Andromeda has done something very bad.” His father said. “She has turned her back on her family, and it makes your mother very sad to think about her. You don’t want Mummy to be sad, do you?”_

_Draco shock his head. His father smiled. “You’re a good boy. Why don’t we go into the gardens and show her the new trick you can do on your broom?”_

His mother had been impressed by his skills, and Draco had never asked about his Aunt Andromeda again. Now, this unknown Aunt had asked him to talk to her for a moment.

The others had gone upstairs to the living room, but Andromeda stayed in the kitchen. She took a moment to prepare a bottle and settled Teddy in her arms. Draco lingered uncertain on his chair.

“Harry told me why you are here.” She said. She gave him an appraising look, like she was judging his worth. It wasn’t a nice feeling. Once again, she looked uncannily like Bellatrix, if only so much more composed. The fact that she was feeding a little baby did not deterred from this in the slightest.

"I was very surprised when Harry told me you were staying here. I was under the impression you two were enemies."

"We were." Draco said tonelessly.

"And yet here you are. Harry is an unusual young man, with an unmatched capacity for mercy. What are your intentions towards him?" Andromeda asked. The look on her face did not bode well for Draco if he didn't answer truthfully, but he would not have dared to lie to her anyway.

"I... Everything my parents taught me turned out to be wrong. I couldn't stand being at the Manor anymore, so I burned it down. I couldn't stand to be _me_ anymore, but I'm a coward. I didn't have the guts to stay inside."

A sharp intake of breath was Andromeda's only reaction.

"You don't need to worry about me.” Draco said. “I'm not going to bother you when you're here. I'm not going to come near Teddy. And I’m not going to bother Harry much longer. My trial is in two weeks, and I'm going to be in Azkaban afterwards."

Her gaze was sharp and thoughtful, and he hated every second she looked at him like this. “Are you so sure your sins are unforgiveable?”

 _“Yes!”_ he shouted, surprising them both. Teddy stopped nursing his bottle, looked at him with wide eyes, and burst into tears.

Draco fled.

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... we all know Draco is a mess. Maybe Hermione should really introduce him to a therapist ...  
> The next chapter will have Harry finding out what happend to Greg Goyle, and also the dreaded pensive viewing. Helena and Daniel are going to learn what exactly happend at Malfoy Manor.


End file.
